THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND  WRECK 

AND    OTHER    STORIES 


The  author  acknowledges  the  courtesy 
of  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers  in 
permitting  him  to  reprint  stories 
which  appeared  in  HARPER'S 
WEEKLY. 


THE 

ROBE'S   ISLAND  WRECK 

AND  OTHER   STORIES 

BY 

LYNN  R.  MEEKINS 


CHICAGO  AND  CAMBRIDGE 

STONE      AND      KIMBALL 

MDCCCXCIV 


COPYRIGHT,  1894 

BY 
LYNN  R.  MEEKINS 


-F-S 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK i 

Two  BOOMS 27 

IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING  .    .    60 

THE  COLONEL'S  CALL 82 

THE  NOMINATION 89 

THE  OPENING  GUN 113 

THE  ELECTION 134 

A  NEW  DEAL 157 


1661492 


THE   ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

I. 

1  HEY  began  by  having  great  fun  with 
the  captain.  Ten  minutes  before  they  ar- 
rived the  captain  came  out  and  took  his 
usual  chair  in  the  usual  spot  under  the 
shadow  of  the  station.  He  was  not  a  hand- 
some man.  He  was  strong,  rugged,  pictu- 
resque, but  not  handsome.  Six  feet  high 
and  two  hundred  pounds  in  weight,  he  was 
an  epic  in  hardened  flesh  and  muscle.  His 
face  was  as  full  of  lines  as  an  etched  por- 
trait. His  general  appearance  offered  a 
contrast  to  every  rule  of  a  fashion-plate,  and 
he  appeared  like  some  big  shaggy  animal 
that  was  particularly  lazy  because  it  was 
especially  strong. 

On  this  occasion  the  captain's  eyes  were 
half-reefed,  and  they  looked  over  an  expanse 
of  sand  on  which  low  houses  were  built,  and 
saw  the  smoke  of  passing  steamers  that 
crept  along  the  horizon.  It  was  peaceful, 
but  it  was  n't  much  of  a  view. 
i 


2  THE   ROBB  S   ISLAND   WRECK. 

In  fact  Robb's  Island  was  n't  much  of  a 
place  ;  simply  a  few  hundred  acres  of  sand 
in  a  wilderness  of  salt  water.  But  it  had  its 
fascinations.  For  instance,  in  summer,  peo- 
ple —  some  of  them  of  such  good  family 
stock  that  they  didn't  have  to  talk  about 
it  —  left  their  best  clothes  and  formalities  at 
home  and  went  there.  They  lived  in  rough 
sheds,  by  courtesy  collectively  called  a  hotel, 
fished  in  the  inlets,  tumbled  around  in  the 
surf,  waded  through  the  ever-shifting  sand, 
and  gathered  flesh  and  tan  and  strength  and 
freckles  on  the  worst  food  that  a  summer 
resort  could  possibly  offer.  At  first  Robb's 
Island  was  deeply  disappointing.  You 
reached  the  place  in  a  stuffy  little  boat, 
after  a  sail  of  ten  miles  from  the  mainland. 
The  commonness  and  the  glare  of  every- 
thing disgusted  you.  You  firmly  resolved 
to  return  the  next  morning.  But  the  boat 
did  n't  go  for  two  days,  and  there  you  were  ! 
In  those  two  days  you  got  into  the  surf,  and 
pulled  up  more  fish  than  you  ever  saw  be- 
fore, caught  a  shark  or  two,  became  the 
owner  of  a  wonderful  appetite,  and  when 
the  boat  was  ready  to  start,  you  were  on  the 
other  side  of  the  island.  In  a  week  you 
were  a  confirmed  victim  to  the  repose  of  the 
place,  and  you  remained  a  hopeless  islander 


THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK.  3 

until  your  conscience  or  your  finances  drove 
you  across  the  ten  miles  of  marsh  and  water 
to  the  world  and  its  cares. 

After  the  summer  visitors  went  away  in 
September,  parties  of  men  with  canvas 
clothes  and  big  guns  arrived  to  kill  ducks 
and  geese;  and  when  they  departed,  the 
island,  with  its  hundred  people,  was  left 
alone  in  the  solitude  of  the  waters.  There 
was  not  much  to  do  then,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants did  it.  It  was  a  dull  life  and  a  dull 
place.  Everybody  was  well,  and  the  only 
way  to  break  the  monotony  was  for  the 
women  folks  to  imagine  a  few  complaints  to 
fit  the  descriptions  in  the  patent-medicine 
almanacs.  A  small  community  without  sick 
people  to  gossip  about  is  stupid,  but  the  best 
that  Robb's  Island  could  do  was  to  manu- 
facture petty  aches,  and  doctor  them  on 
home-made  remedies.  The  idea  of  a  resident 
physician  was  preposterous.  He  wouldn't 
make  enough  in  a  year  to  feed  a  cat  on 
bread-crumbs  and  water,  much  less  milk. 

The  most  interesting  place  on  the  island 
was  the  life-saving  station,  —  a  fine  house  of 
two  stories,  with  a  broad  gable  roof,  a  flag- 
staff, a  veranda,  and  a  liberal  decoration  of 
red  paint,  whose  contagion  had  spread  over 
the  neighborhood,  and  given  the  settlement 


4  THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

a  sanguinary  hue.  The  keeper  of  the  sta- 
tion and  the  captain  of  the  life-saving  crew, 
who,  according  to  the  authorities,  are  two 
gentlemen  at  once,  at  four  hundred  dollars  a 
year  for  the  total,  was,  and  is,  Captain 
Zebedee  Graves;  and  on  this  afternoon  he 
had  eaten  his  dinner,  and  was  trying  to 
smoke  and  sleep  and  keep  his  eyes  open  at 
the  same  time.  He  almost  succeeded,  but 
he  was  losing  himself  in  furtive  naps  when 
other  men  began  to  come  out.  At  first  they 
did  n't  disturb  him.  They  took  seats,  quietly 
stretched  their  limbs,  and  gazed  across  the 
expanse  of  sand  and  sea.  The  captain 
dozed ;  then  the  six  surf  men  looked  at  one 
another  and  smiled. 

The  smallest  man  struck  a  match  and 
lighted  his  pipe.  He  puffed  twice,  threw 
his  hands  over  his  knees,  rocked  backwards 
and  forwards  several  times,  and  began  to 
speak.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  this  life  's 
getting  too  slow.  I  think  I  '11  go  ashore, 
and  let  some  nice  girl  with  a  farm  marry 
me,  —  a  girl  or  a  widder ;  I  guess  I  '11  take  a 
widder." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  captain's  eyes 
opened  one-thousandth  part  of  an  inch. 
The  other  men  looked  into  vacancy.  The 
captain  said  nothing. 


THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK.  5 

"  You  'd  better  be  quick  about  it,  then," 
advised  the  long  man.  "  From  what  I  hear, 
widders  is  mighty  popular  now,  and  some- 
body might  cut  you  out." 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,"  said  the  short  man. 
"Good  goods  come  in  little  bundles,  and 
widders  know  quality.  Don't  they,  cap- 
tain ?  " 

The  captain's  eyes  opened  another  frac- 
tion, and  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth 
and  growled,  "  What  are  you  up  to  now  ?  " 

"Oh,  nothing.  I  just  thought  of  going 
ashore  and  getting  some  things,  and  calling 
on  a  widder." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  somebody 's  got  ahead  of 
me." 

The  men  langhed,  and  the  captain  scowled, 
and  took  an  extra  puff  from  his  pipe. 

The  long  man  spoke  up  :  "  You  need  n't 
try  to  deny  it,  captain.  We  Ve  got  the 
dead  wood  on  you  this  time." 

And  then  followed  volleys  of  questions 
from  all  the  six  men.  They  wanted  to 
know  when  the  marriage  was  to  take  place, 
when  he  was  going  to  bring  his  bride  over, 
and  whether  or  not  they  would  receive 
invitations  to  the  ceremony.  The  captain 
puffed  away  at  his  pipe,  but  behind  the 


6  THE  ROBB'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

smoke  was  an  increasing  exasperation.  The 
boys  welcomed  the  signs  with  undisguised 
glee.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  the 
captain  aroused  was  one  of  their  greatest 
delights.  They  often  said  that  they  would 
rather  hear  him  swear  than  the  church  choir 
sing ;  and  they  never  thought  it  a  sin,  because 
the  oaths  —  which,  of  course,  cannot  get 
their  natural  glow  in  repetition  —  seemed 
to  be  an  inevitable  part  of  the  man.  He 
stood  their  prodding  longer  than  they  ex- 
pected, but  finally  he  blurted  out  something 
which,  considerably  expurgated,  amounted 
to  this :  — 

"  What  if  I  did  go  to  see  the  widder  ?  Is 
it  any  of  your  business  ?  If  people  would 
attend  to  their  own  affairs  this  here  world 
would  be  a  heap  better  off.  I  'd  get  married 
if  I  wanted  to ;  but,  thunderation !  who 
wants  to  get  married  ?  I  would  n't  marry 
a  angel  if  she  was  to  come  down  and  ask 
me,  'specially  if  I  had  to  introduce  her  to 
some  good-for-nothing  loafers  that  I  know 
of." 

"  We  're  not  talking  about  angels,  captain, 
but  widders,  which  is  altogether  different." 

"  You  jaw  about  marriage  as  if  it  was  a 
joke,"  continued  the  captain,  ignoring  the 
interruption.  "  It  ain't  a  joke,  it 's  serious ; 


THE  ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK.  ^ 

and  it  ruins  more  men  than  whiskey.  Men 
don't  know  their  own  minds  till  they  are 
forty,  and  then  they  mostly  stay  single ;  but 
if  one  does  marry,  he  generally  picks  out 
the  right  sort  of  wife.  What 's  the  matter 
with  the  world  now  ?  What  caused  all  this 
hard  work  and  this  starvation  pay  ?  What 
but  an  early  marriage  ?  If  Adam  had  had 
the  sense  to  wait  for  another  woman,  he  'd 
'a'  done  something  in  the  world  a  little  better 
than  stealing  apples." 

"  But,  captain,"  put  in  the  long  man,  who 
had  married  when  he  was  eighteen,  "  there 
are  —  " 

"  Of  course  there  is.  I  don't  say  nothing 
about  present  company.  There 's  a  few 
married  men  who's  all  right,  and  there's  a 
big  lot  who  ain't  worth  a  cupful  of  salt 
water.  And  yonder 's  one  of  'em." 

The  men  turned,  and  about  four  hundred 
yards  away  saw  a  heavily  built  young  fel- 
low with  hatchet  and  nails  mending  the 
fence  that  enclosed  a  small  and  neatly  kept 
two-story  house.  The  countenance  of  every 
one  in  the  party  fell  —  every  one  except  the 
captain.  He  ground  his  teeth  and  sneered. 

"  That 's  a  nice  married  man  for  you ;  a 
nice  land-lubberly  piece  of  dough  and  fresh 
water  he  is  !  " 


8  THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

"  Now,  captain,  you  Ve  no  right  to  talk 
against  Henry  that  way.  You  know  that  he 
resigned  because  he  had  the  heart-disease. 
You  know  —  " 

"  Tom  Thorpe,  I  know  more  about  Henry 
Dane  in  a  minute  than  you  do  in  a  year, 
and  I  say  he  's  a  lazy  loafer.  Who  brought 

that  boy  up  ?  I  did,  d him !  Who 

taught  him  to  be  the  strongest  helmsman 
and  the  best  all-round  life-saver  on  the 
island  ?  Who  got  him  a  place  in  this  crew  ? 
I  did,  and  you  all  know  it.  When  he  wanted 
to  get  married,  I  said  no ;  not  that  I  had 
nothing  agin  the  woman,  but  she  was  a 
woman,  and  if  Tom  was  to  take  my  place, 
he  had  no  right  to  get  married.  But  mar- 
ried he  got ;  and  what  come  of  it  ?  Why, 
pretty  soon  he  had  the  heart-disease.  Bah  ! " 

"  Be  fair,  captain.  There  ain't  a  braver 
man  on  the  island  than  Henry,"  said  the 
tall  surfman.  "  We  all  saw  him  keel  over 
out  there  in  the  surf  no  less  than  four 
times." 

"  What  if  he  did  ?  "  growled  the  captain. 
"  Hain't  I  been  knocked  out  a  dozen  times  ? 
That  don't  show  nothing.  He  passed  the 
examination,  did  n't  he  ?  " 

"  But  it  was  n't  very  strict  in  his  case," 
answered  the  long  man. 


THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK.  9 

"  It  was  strict  enough.  There  ain't  no 
sickness  on  this  island  —  you  know  that  — 
and  Henry  was  the  soundest  boy  here  till 
he  got  married,  and  then  his  wife  and  that 
doctor  who  was  down  here  last  summer 
made  him  believe  that  something  ailed  his 
heart,  and  told  him  he  had  to  get  out  of  the 

service  or  die.  And  he  got  out,  d him  ! 

he  got  out.  And  I  hain't  spoke  to  him  since, 
and  I  would  n't  if  he  was  on  his  dying  bed. 
Every  hope  I  had  was  wrapped  up  in  that 
boy.  He'd  'a'  been  keeper  of  this  station; 
and  look  at  him  now,  a  big  calf  yoked  to 
two  apron  strings  !  Heart  failure,  is  it  ?  I 
tell  you  it 's  nerve  failure  —  that 's  what  it 
is." 

Never  were  six  men  more  miserable. 
They  tried  to  defend  their  comrade,  but  it 
was  useless.  Each  word  increased  the  cap- 
tain's anger.  Presently  there  was  silence. 
He  puffed  at  his  pipe ;  they  tried  to  look  at 
ease. 

"  Now  I  guess  you  want  to  know  why  I 
went  to  see  the  Widder  Marling,"  resumed 
the  captain,  with  something  like  contempt 
in  his  voice.  "  She  's  a  cousin  of  Joe  Black, 
who  happens  to  be  at  the  head  of  things 
over  in  the  county  just  now,  and  the  doctor 
says  she  must  come  to  Robb's  Island  for 


10  THE   ROBB'S   ISLAND   WRECK. 

her  health,  and  she  wants  something  to  do 
while  she  is  here.  So  she  's  going  to  teach 
the  school." 

The  miserable  men  were  no  longer  quiet. 
They  started  as  if  a  bomb-shell  had  dropped 
in  their  midst. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  captain,  that 
she  's  going  to  take  the  place  of  Henry's 
wife?"  stammered  Tom. 

"  That 's  exactly  what  I  mean." 

Every  man  had  something  to  say  in  in- 
dignant protest. 

"  It 's  no  use  to  kick,"  answered  the  cap- 
tain to  them  all.  "  The  thing 's  settled.  We 
done  enough  for  Henry  in  giving  him  the 
place  here,  and  he  throwed  it  up.  His  wife 
don't  belong  to  the  island,  and  as  he  married 
her,  let  him  support  her.  I  've  got  no  hard 
feelings  agin  her,  but  the  bosses  over  in  the 
county  say  Mrs.  Marling  must  have  the 
place,  and  she 's  got  it,  and  I  Ve  been  to 
see  her  about  moving  over." 

It  was  an  ill  ending  to  the  joke  of  the 
jokers.  They  were  too  depressed  to  talk,  and 
gradually  they  got  up  and  moved  away. 


THE  ROBE'S   ISLAND  WRECK. 


II. 


SOME  people  still  talk  about  the  Novem- 
ber storm  of  that  year.  It  sent  more  than 
forty  boats  ashore,  and  for  hours  it  kept 
many  of  the  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  life- 
saving  stations  along  the  Atlantic  coast  in 
constant  readiness  and  apprehension.  Had 
it  not  been  for  the  work  of  the  life-savers, 
more  than  a  hundred  souls  would  have  per- 
ished ;  but  in  the  face  of  cold  and  death 
these  brave  fellows  risked  everything,  and 
played  the  roles  of  heroes  with  as  splendid 
a  courage  and  as  honest  a  purpose  as  ever 
the  world  saw.  The  great  public,  with  its 
twelve-hour  memory,  read  the  brief  reports 
in  the  newspapers  the  next  morning,  and 
then  promptly  forgot  all  about  it  by  dinner- 
time. 

On  Robb's  Island  the  day  began  queerly. 
A  yellowish  sunshine  disfigured  the  morn- 
ing. By  nine  o'clock  thick,  deep,  dark  clouds 
were  rolling  along  the  horizon,  and  by  noon 
a  heavy  wind,  uncertain  in  its  direction,  was 
beating  the  waves  into  whiteness,  and  piling 
up  the  blackness  of  the  heavens.  Rain 
poured  down  in  big  drops,  and  fell  faster 
than  the  porous  sand  could  receive  it.  Then 


12  THE   ROBB'S    ISLAND   WRECK. 

there  was  a  lull,  and  by  and  by  came  a  del- 
uge from  above,  driven  by  the  wind  into 
every  crevice,  and  forcing  everything  ani- 
mate to  a  refuge.  In  the  life-saving  station 
the  men  looked  out  of  the  windows  and 
smoked  —  and  smoked  and  looked  out  of 
the  windows.  The  first  regular  watch  was 
at  sunset,  but  the  sun  was  behind  an  ocean 
of  ink,  and  by  the  time  it  got  below  the 
horizon,  twilight  changed  to  night,  and  the 
rain  turned  into  a  bombardment  of  hail, 
that  rattled  on  the  roof  like  a  fusillade  of 
infantry  bullets. 

Just  about  that  time  the  small  man  came 
into  the  room  in  oil-skins  and  rubbers. 

"  Rough  night,  Tom,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Yes,  captain.  I  don't  think  it  '11  be  very 
dusty  on  the  sands  to-night.  Perhaps  some 
of  you  fellows  would  like  to  take  the  walk  ?  " 

"  Glad  you  think  so,"  said  the  long  man. 

"  Well,  never  mind.  I  'm  rather  thinking 
you  '11  all  get  baptized  before  morning.  The 
shoals  look  ugly,  and  if  any  boat  gets  in  too 
close,  may  the  good  Lord  help  her !  Good 
night,  gentlemen." 

"  Good-night,  Tom." 

The  patrol  on  Robb's  Island  was  different 
from  that  of  the  ordinary  coast  station.  The 
stretch  of  beach  being  less  than  two  miles, 


THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK.  13 

only  one  patrolman  was  needed  during  a 
watch.  Tom  was  the  first  man  out.  He 
carried  his  lantern  and  the  Coston  signals. 
The  hail  having  turned  to  snow,  the  light 
of  the  lantern  reached  but  a  short  distance, 
and  beyond  that  was  utter  darkness.  In 
ordinary  weather  the  walk  was  not  bad,  but 
that  night  it  was  a  sorry  journey.  The  vio- 
lence of  the  wind  increased  enormously. 
It  was  as  if  the  storm  god  was  using  the 
air  as  a  herculean  lash  to  whip  nature  into 
chaos,  and  was  wielding  it  right  and  left, 
backward  and  forward,  with  gigantic  reck- 
lessness. More  than  once  the  poor  fellow 
fell,  but  he  was  soon  up  again,  fighting  his 
way  along  the  sands.  You,  my  dear  sir,  with 
your  comfortable  bank  account,  wouldn't 
have  stayed  out  there  for  forty  dollars  an 
hour.  This  surfman  —  thanks  to  the  mu- 
nificence of  the  richest  government  on  the 
earth  —  was  doing  it  for  forty  dollars  a 
month. 

In  four  hours  he  was  back  at  the  station, 
and  another  unfortunate  was  sent  forth  to 
make  the  round.  After  four  hours  he  came 
back,  half-drowned  and  exhausted.  Then 
another  set  out  in  the  face  of  the  storm,  and 
a  weary  time  he  had  of  it ;  but  he  stumbled 
along  against  the  tempest,  going  down  fre- 


14         THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

quently,  but  soon  rising,  and  all  the  time 
gazing  seawards,  with  his  Coston  signal 
ready  to  warn  any  ill-starred  mariner. 

As  calculated  afterwards,  it  was  sixty-five 
minutes  before  the  break  of  day  when  this 
patrolman  thought  he  saw  the  glimmer  of 
a  light  a  half-mile  beyond  the  shoals.  He 
climbed  on  a  bluff  of  sand  and  looked 
again,  but  the  snow  fell  thick  and  fast,  and 
he  could  see  nothing.  Suddenly  he  heard 
a  cry.  He  was  sure  of  it,  and  then,  settling 
all  doubt,  came  the  report  of  a  gun.  Before 
its  echo  had  answered  the  sound,  he  ignited 
the  Coston  signal. 

For  two  minutes  its  brilliant  red  flame 
illuminated  the  storm.  And  then  he  struck 
another,  and  for  two  minutes  more  the  warn- 
ing glare  burned  forth,  and  from  the  dark 
water  came  a  second  report  of  the  gun. 

The  patrolman  turned  at  once,  and  ran  as 
fast  as  he  could  towards  the  station. 

Somehow  the  captain  had  not  slept  that 
night.  His  thoughts  were  on  the  sea.  His 
eyes  were  looking  out  towards  the  window. 
He  heard  the  muffled  echo  of  the  gun,  and 
thought  he  saw  the  glare  of  the  signal. 

He  jumped  up  and  shouted,  in  a  voice 
louder  than  the  roar  of  the  angry  surf,  "  Get 
out,  everybody ! " 


THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND   WRECK.  15 

There  was  a  stampede,  a  rush  down  the 
steps,  a  swinging  open  of  the  big  doors,  and 
in  a  twinkling  the  surf-boat,  resting  grace- 
fully on  its  four-wheeled  carriage  and  drawn 
by  the  six  men,  had  rumbled  down  the  in- 
cline, and  was  on  its  way  towards  the  beach. 

The  snow  was  deep  and  the  sand  was 
deeper,  and  the  work  was  hard,  but  the  six 
men  had  muscles  of  iron  and  wills  of  steel, 
and  they  pulled  the  load  of  nearly  a  thou- 
sand pounds  as  if  they  were  horses  trained 
for  the  work.  No  one  spoke  except  the 
captain,  and  his  vociferous  tones  rose  above 
the  storm  and  urged  the  men  to  their  best 
endeavor. 

The  same  tones  reached  the  houses  on 
the  island,  and  in  a  short  time  the  whole 
population  was  aroused.  No  one  thought 
of  cold,  or  of  the  snow,  or  of  pneumonia ; 
there  was  a  wreck,  and  a  wreck  would  call  a 
dying  Robb's-I  slander  from  the  portals  of 
the  grave.  So  out  the  people  came,  with 
untied  shoes  and  unbuttoned  garments,  run- 
ning pell-mell  across  the  sands,  and  trying 
to  overtake  the  life-saving  crew. 

The  crew  were  several  hundred  yards 
ahead,  and  were  making  good  progress.  By 
that  time,  too,  the  patrolman  had  met  his 
comrades,  and  was  pulling  with  them  at  the 


r6        THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

ropes  of  the  carriage.  They  needed  his  as- 
sistance, for  the  sand  dunes  were  getting 
larger,  and  the  work  was  growing  heavier, 
and  the  captain  was  swearing  harder.  A 
hundred  yards  more,  and  the  half-dressed 
islanders  caught  up  with  the  crew,  and  lent 
their  willing  aid  to  the  men. 

Day  was  just  breaking  when  they  reached 
the  point  opposite  the  wreck.  In  the  uncer- 
tain light  they  saw  a  schooner  stuck  fast  on 
the  shoals.  The  heavy  seas  were  pounding 
her  sides  and  throwing  cataracts  of  water 
across  her  decks.  No  vessel  could  long 
endure  such  violence,  and  already  pieces  of 
wreckage  were  reaching  the  shore,  showing 
that  she  was  breaking  up.  She  was  too  far 
out  for  the  guns  and  the  breeches  buoy. 
The  only  hope  was  the  surf-boat,  and  be- 
tween her  and  the  crew  were  the  great 
shoals  covered  with  prodigious  breakers, 
whipped  into  whiteness  by  the  fury  of  the 
wind,  and  full  of  uncertain  currents  and 
death-sweeping  undertows. 

"  The  boat  can't  live  in  that  sea,"  said  a 
voice  in  the  crowd. 

"  Live  ?  "  roared  the  captain.  "  She 's  got 
to  live ! " 

The  half-dressed  islanders  shivered.  Some 
of  the  women,  whose  husbands  or  sons 


THE   ROBE'S    ISLAND   WRECK.  17 

were  surfmen,  sobbed  aloud.  The  captain 
turned  his  head  a  second  to  look  at  them, 
and  as  he  did  so  his  eyes  fell  on  Henry 
Dane,  who,  pale  but  calm,  was  standing  with 
his  wife  watching  the  crew  fix  the  carriage 
for  the  launching  of  the  boat.  Across  the 
captain's  face  swept  a  wave  of  indignant 
disgust.  Henry  saw  it  and  felt  it. 

But  minutes  were  hours  then,  and  there 
was  no  time  for  anything  but  the  work  of 
rescue. 

"  Ready,  captain,"  said  Tom. 

The  captain  leaped  into  the  stern,  and 
grabbed  the  long  steering-oar.  The  six 
surfmen,  obedient  and  watchful,  waited  for 
the  sign.  A  great  wave  rolled  in,  and  on  its 
recession  the  boat  glided  into  the  turbulent 
surf.  Down  she  dropped  and  up  she  came, 
again  she  fell  and  again  she  rose,  but  as  she 
rested  on  the  wave's  crest,  another  breaker, 
driven  diagonally  by  the  uncertain  wind, 
slashed  her  side,  hid  her  in  its  spray,  and 
turned  her  prow  from  its  course.  With 
magnificent  skill  the  Hercules  in  the  stern 
sought  to  swing  her  back,  but  the  forces  of 
hell  itself  were  in  those  breakers,  and  the 
vantage  lost,  human  skill  was  not  enough. 
Before  the  oar  could  get  a  second  hold  on 
the  water,  a  great  maddening  cascade,  larger 


1 8        THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

and  stronger  than  all  the  rest,  picked  up  the 
boat  as  if  she  were  a  child's  plaything,  and 
tossed  her  angrily  towards  the  shore. 

The  men  on  land  ran  forward  and  helped 
the  surfmen  get  the  boat  back  on  the  sand. 
And  they  brought  with  her  the  form  of  the 
captain,  his  right  arm  powerless,  and  blood 
streaming  from  a  deep  gash  across  his 
temple. 

Henry  Dane  saw  all  this.  He  saw  what 
the  broken  wrist  meant.  He  saw  the 
grounded  vessel  giving  way  to  the  pounding 
of  the  waves.  He  saw  that  the  lives  upon 
her  had  to  be  saved  at  any  cost.  There  in 
the  stern  he  would  be  at  home,  —  he  whom 
the  captain  had  taught,  whom  the  boys  had 
trusted.  So  intent  were  his  thoughts  that 
he  scarcely  felt  the  clinging  of  the  woman 
at  his  side  —  of  her  who  was  more  to  him 
than  all  the  world —scarcely  heard  her 
words  imploring  him  not  to  go. 

"  We  need  another  man,"  hallooed  Tom. 

Henry  looked  at  the  trembling  form  of  his 
wife,  and  unclasped  her  hands  from  his  arm. 

"  It 's  my  duty ;  I  must,"  he  said. 

"  Then  go,"  she  replied ;  "  and  may  God 
keep  you ! " 

He  sprang  forward.  In  an  instant  he  was 
in  the  stern,  with  the  steering-oar  balanced  for 


THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK  ig 

its  work.  There  were  no  cheers,  no  demon- 
strations from  the  islanders.  It  was  Henry's 
place  to  go,  and  he  went ;  that  was  all.  And, 
moreover,  most  of  the  folks  were  around  the 
prostrate  captain,  binding  up  his  wounds,  and 
holding  him  down. 

The  surfmen  and  their  new  captain  saw 
nothing,  knew  nothing,  but  the  work  ahead 
of  them.  As  Henry  stood  at  his  post  the 
whiteness  left  his  face,  and  all  the  old 
earnestness  rushed  back  to  warm  his  blood, 
to  strengthen  his  muscle. 

It  seemed  like  the  old  days  to  the  surfmen 
to  hear  him  sing  out :  "  Steady  now,  boys. 
Here  comes  a  bully  one.  One,  two,  three, 
let  her  go  !  " 

She  went.  Into  the  seething  turbulence 
she  fell,  and  on  the  snowy  crest  she  rose. 
Henry  held  her  true  and  straight.  He 
profited  by  the  captain's  failure  ;  calculated 
for  the  diagonal  waves,  and  with  firm  nerve 
and  splendid  strength  guided  her  through  the 
dangers  of  the  breakers.  His  loud  voice  rose 
above  the  storm. 

"  Strong  there,  Tom.  There 's  a  whopper. 
All  together,  boys.  That 's  past.  Now  we  're 
all  right." 

The  men  never  pulled  more  magnificently, 
and  the  boat,  obedient  to  the  helmsman's 


20  THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK. 

touch,  leaped  from  wave  to  wave,  carrying 
the  prayers  of  those  on  shore,  the  hopes  of 
the  freezing  wretches  on  the  wreck. 

And  yet  she  seemed  to  go  slowly  —  oh,  so 
slowly !  The  captain,  his  left  eye  hid  by  the 
rough  cloths  which  were  bound  around  his 
wound,  arose  and  looked. 

"  God  bless  the  boy  !  "  he  said. 

And  the  people  thought  the  boy  needed  it, 
for  the  boat  was  often  hidden  by  the  spray, 
and  it  looked  as  if  she  could  not  live  through 
the  trip.  But  when  they  saw  Henry  stand- 
ing steadfastly  at  his  post,  the  men  working 
the  oars  like  machines,  and  the  whole  crew 
fighting  the  storm  inch  by  inch  towards  the 
vessel,  they  took  hope,  and  believed  that  he 
would  conquer.  It  was  a  half-hour  of  inde- 
scribable suspense,  a  half-hour  that  seemed 
a  whole  day,  but  at  the  end  of  it  the  surf- 
boat  was  nearer  the  vessel's  side. 

Three  times  she  tried  to  approach  the 
wreck,  and  three  times  the  waves  swept  her 
away;  and  as  failure  followed  failure,  the 
five  men  and  the  boy  on  the  vessel  seemed 
to  give  up  hope.  But  not  so  Henry,  The 
fourth  time  success  came,  and  in  a  minute 
the  six  castaways  jumped  aboard,  and 
nestled  there  in  speechless  joy. 

All  knew  the  perils  of  the  trip   ashore. 


THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND    WRECK.  21 

Progress  was  easier,  but  the  dangers  were 
greater.  Henry  was  exuberant  no  longer. 
His  face  was  grim,  not  boyish,  and  the  pale- 
ness came  back.  For  a  while  the  boat  cut 
swiftly  through  the  sea,  leaping  from  breaker 
to  breaker  with  splendid  speed.  But  when 
she  reached  the  cut-off  channel  that  ran  be- 
tween the  shore  and  the  shoals  the  serious 
work  began.  The  beach  seemed  only  a 
few  yards  away,  but  between  it  and  the  boat 
more  than  one  tragedy  had  ended  the  hopes 
of  sailors  in  bygone  years.  Henry  knew  it 
well.  Just  as  the  boat  plunged  into  it,  a  hid- 
den current  tried  to  pull  her  to  her  death ; 
but  he  was  quick,  and  the  boat  was  brought 
back  to  her  course.  A  minute  more  and 
they  were  in  the  thick  of  the  eddies,  and  the 
thundering  breakers  hammered  the  boat  with 
titanic  force.  They  were  over  more  than  half 
the  channel  now.  A  few  more  pulls  meant 
land  and  safety. 

"  Pull,  boys  ;  pull  for  your  lives  ! " 
They  did  so,  but  there  was  a  monster 
breaker  chasing  them  like  a  wild  beast  after 
its  prey.  With  lips  set,  the  man  in  the  stern 
concentrated  every  muscle  upon  the  work : 
but,  just  as  he  seemed  to  be  getting  ready 
to  beach  the  boat  and  clasp  his  wife  in  his 
arms,  his  hand  relaxed,  and  he  fell. 


22  THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK. 

As  Tom  jumped  to  the  oar,  the  big  breaker 
took  the  boat  and  tossed  her  near  enough 
in  for  the  captain  and  the  men,  who  were 
waist-deep  in  the  surf,  to  grab  her  side. 
There  was  a  turbulence  of  whirling  water, 
of  rapid  movement,  of  strange  words  and 
anxious  cries,  and  the  boat  and  her  crew 
and  her  passengers  were  safe  on  the  beach. 

All  safe  save  one.  His  unconscious  form 
rested  listlessly  on  the  boat's  bottom.  The 
men  bore  it  tenderly  to  a  place  where  the 
women  had  spread  their  shawls.  The  big 
captain  knelt  in  the  snow  and  tried  to  bring 
life  from  death. 

"He  must  be  taken  home,"  said  Tom. 
"  We  '11  do  it,  captain.  Your  wrist  is 
broken." 

"  Wrist  be  d ! "  and  the  rugged  old 

fellow  lifted  him  in  his  big  arms  and  carried 
him  through  the  storm,  followed  by  the 
woman  who  had  asked  God  to  keep  him. 


III. 

"  LIKE  everything  else,  this  marrying  busi- 
ness is  pretty  much  a  matter  of  circum- 
stances," explained  the  captain  to  me  two 
years  later. 


THE   ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK.  23 

We  had  arrived  on  the  island  after  a  long 
absence.  The  old  fellow  was  changed  — 
greatly  changed.  His  beard  and  his  speech 
and  his  dress  were  all  better  trimmed,  and 
he  bore  an  air  of  intense  respectability. 

"  Now,  for  instance,"  he  went  on,  "  take 
a  man  who  's  got  his  notions  set.  He  goes 
on  through  life  without  finding  anybody  to 
fit  them  notions.  You  can't  blame  him  for 
staying  single.  But  suppose  that  a  man  is 
put  on  a  island,  and  he  finds  a  woman 
there,  —  a  fine  woman,  too,  —  and  the  cir- 
cumstances throw  them  at  each  other  every 
day  in  the  week,  why,  what 's  to  be  done, 
notions  or  no  notions,  but  to  call  in  the  first 
preacher  that  comes  along?" 

"  Captain,  your  logic  is  beneath  respect, 
and,  what 's  more,  I  'd  like  to  know  if  an  old 
woman-hater  like  you  has  any  right  to  talk 
about  marriage  ?  Has  an  infidel  a  right  to 
preach  from  a  pulpit  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  —  when  he  's  converted. 
Have  n't  you  heard  ?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  'm  converted.  Oh,  I  'm 
married.  You  need  n't  laugh.  It  was  n't 
my  fault;  it  was  circumstances.  You  see, 
after  Henry's  death  from  heart-disease  in 
that  wreck,  we  all  said  the  widder  should 


24         THE  ROBE'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

have  the  school  back ;  but  there  was  another 
widder  in  the  way,  and  she  said  she  was 
going  to  stay  on  the  island  on  account  of 
her  health,  and  there  we  were.  Talk  about 
your  circumstances,  two  widders  is  a  whole 
boatload.  Well,  I  had  to  go  to  see  the 
second  widder  about  the  school  and  so  on, 
and  I  found  out  she  was  n't  going  to  budge, 
and  the  only  way  to  get  her  out  of  the  school 
was  for  somebody  to  marry  her.  I  swore  to 
myself  that  Henry's  wife  should  get  back 
in  that  school,  if  I  had  to  turn  Mormon, 
and  marry  a  whole  county  full  of  widders. 
So  I  kept  on  going  to  see  her,  and  pretty 
soon  we  dropped  school,  and  began  to  talk 
about  other  things,  and  so  on,  and  such  like, 
all  of  which  was  a  d — d — draggled  —  " 

" '  Draggled,'  captain  ?  " 

The  captain  gave  a  sigh  of  infinite  pathos, 
and  continued :  "  Yes,  draggled  !  That 's 
one  of  the  drawbacks  of  marriage  —  she 
won't  let  me  swear ;  won't  let  me  say  any- 
thing worse  than  draggled.  Now  don't  you 
listen  to  the  yarns  the  boys  '11  tell  you  about 
the  hard  time  I  had  giving  it  up.  It  was 
hard;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  that  going  to 
see  the  widder  got  to  be  a  draggled  sight 
pleasanter  than  I  ever  imagined,  and  inside 
of  a  month  we  called  in  a  preacher.  And 


THE  ROBE'S   ISLAND   WRECK.  25 

so  Henry's  widder  got  the  school,  and  she 's 
got  it  yet ;  and  we  built  her  that  new  house 
over  yonder ;  and  if  there  's  anything  she 
wants  on  this  island  or  anywhere  else,  the 
boys  will  get  it  for  her,  and  thank  her  for 
letting  'em  do  it." 

"  I  suppose,  captain,  that  you  like  married 
life  ? " 

"  Like  it  ?  Young  man,  I  was  here  on 
earth  fifty-one  years,  and  when  I  was  fifty- 
two  —  the  day  the  preacher  came  in  —  I 
commenced  to  live.  I  've  got  the  best  wife 
in  the  world.  She  's  the  best  woman  in  the 
world  except  Henry's  widder,  who  is  the 
best  woman  in  the  world  except  my  wife. 
But  here  we  are  at  the  station.  You  '11  stay 
for  dinner,  and  after  we  eat,  we  '11  go  over 
and  look  at  the  boy's  grave." 

It  was  delightful  to  be  welcomed  by  such 
a  woman  as  Mrs.  Graves,  but  it  was  strange, 
very  strange,  to  see  the  captain  bow  his 
head  with  real  reverence,  and  hear  him  say 
grace  with  genuine  unction. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  strolled  over  to 
the  little  cemetery.  We  stood  together  by 
the  carefully  kept  grave,  and  read  this 
inscription :  — 


26         THE  ROBB'S  ISLAND  WRECK. 

Here  Lies  the  Body  of  Henry  Dane, 

Aged  25  Years. 

Who  Gave  His  Life,  November  19,  for  the  Six 
Souls  on  the  Wrecked  Schooner 

Ocean  View. 

He  Was  a  Hero  and  a  Christian. 
Erected  by  his  Comrades  of  the  Robb's  Island 
Station.  f 

"  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a 
man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends." 


TWO   BOOMS. 

ALEM  City  was  booming.  It  was  no 
ordinary  boom  ;  it  was  a  flood-tide  of  specu- 
lation. Twice  before  it  had  risen  above  the 
tedium  of  its  sluggish  life,  —  once  when  the 
steamboats  came,  and  once  when  the  prairie 
caravans  used  it  as  a  stopping-place ;  but  the 
steamboats  forsook  its  muddy  banks  and 
the  caravans  found  a  better  road,  and  the 
village  resumed  its  stagnancy. 

But  one  bright  day  a  nervous  man,  dressed 
carefully  in  a  Prince  Albert  coat  and  a  high 
hat,  broke  upon  the  monotony  of  the  place. 
A  dozen  surmises  were  made  as  to  his  call- 
ing. A  drummer  he  was  not,  for  he  sold  no 
goods ;  a  minister  he  could  not  be,  for  he 
patronized  the  bar:  a  lawyer  he  might 
be,  but  he  declined  to  satisfy  curiosity.  He 
walked  over  the  village ;  he  talked  of  the 
climate ;  he  asked  questions  until  he  ex- 
hausted all  sources  of  information.  In  a 
day  he  knew  who  owned  property,  and  the 


25  TWO  BOOMS. 

next  day  he  had  bought  options  on  two 
squares,  five  business  lots,  and  three  out- 
lying fields,  besides  purchasing  outright  the 
best  house  in  the  place. 

Then  he  went  away.  He  travelled  four 
hundred  miles  until  he  reached  a  small  city. 
He  entered  a  modest  house,  and  was  promptly 
embraced  by  a  sweet-faced  woman,  who 
called  him  husband,  and  by  a  brown-eyed 
girl,  who  greeted  him  with,  "  Well,  Pop,  are 
we  going  to  move  ?  " 

Anthony  Hoddle  was  a  dealer  in  groceries. 
In  a  busy  career  of  twenty  years  he  had 
built  up  a  successful  trade,  and  his  bank 
account  had  reached  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars. He  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  a  few 
weeks  past  forty,  and  his  ambitions  had 
long  looked  beyond  their  retail  limitations. 
He  felt  that  his  ability  was  worthy  of  a 
higher  destiny  than  the  slow  accumulation 
of  fractional  profits  upon  sugar  and  coffee 
and  flour  and  salt  mackerel.  This  ability 
was  certainly  better  fitted  for  public  display 
than  for  the  comparative  privacy  of  the 
store-room.  It  was  the  ability  of  speech  that 
monopolized  and  overwhelmed  by  its  natural 
volubility,  a  torrent  of  words  and  phrases 
that  flowed  with  as  much  force,  but  without 
as  much  disorder,  as  a  torrent  usually  does. 


TWO  BOOMS.  29 

He  was  a  natural  talker,  a  personified  organ 
of  speech.  He  could  tell  the  news  of  the 
week  while  he  was  dealing  out  a  pound  of 
coffee.  He  once  disposed  of  the  doctrine 
of  eternal  punishment  before  he  filled  his 
minister's  order  for  four  pounds  of  sugar. 
The  incident  is  on  record  that  he  discussed 
the  whole  tariff  question  while  he  was  get- 
ting a  gallon  of  molasses.  It  is  true  that  the 
day  was  cold  and  the  molasses  ran  slowly 
through  the  spigot,  but  that  does  not  detract 
from  the  glory  of  his  performance.  To  use 
the  words  of  one  of  the  customers,  he  could 
talk  an  ebb-tide  out,  and  still  be  in  a  condi- 
tion to  talk  it  back  to  a  flood. 

Mr.  Hoddle's  opportunity  came  when  he 
heard  that  a  new  railroad  was  to  be  built 
with  a  place  called  Salem  as  its  terminus. 

"  Yes,  we  're  going  to  move,"  he  replied 
to  the  young  lady's  question,  and  when  there 
were  signs  of  sadness,  if  not  of  absolute  dis- 
appointment, in  the  faces  of  the  two  women 
before  him,  he  immediately  rose  to  the  oc- 
casion, and  used  his  eloquence  as  if  it  was 
the  crisis  of  his  life. 

"  Of  course  it 's  hard  to  break  away  from 
a  place  to  which  you  are  tied  by  twenty 
years  of  hard  work,  but  it 's  either  that  or 
the  grocery  business  as  long  as  the  good 


30  TWO  BOOMS. 

Lord  lets  us  live.  And  I  tell  you  now  that 
I  want  a  change,  and  so  do  you.  I  'm  tired 
of  this  humdrum,  get-up-at-six-o'clock-in-the- 
morning-and-slave-all-day  life,  and  so  are  you. 
Just  at  present  Salem  is  not  the  loveliest 
place  I  ever  saw,  but  it 's  going  to  be  a  big 
city.  In  six  months  it  will  be  crowded ;  in 
a  year  it  will  not  know  itself ;  in  two  years 
it  will  have  a  society,  and  as  first  settlers 
you  will  be  aristocrats.  We  shall  become 
wealthy,  famous,  happy.  I  'm  determined. 
I  sell  out  to-morrow  if  I  can.  Next  week 
we  move." 

The  night,  practically  consumed  in  discus- 
sion, ended  in  a  lot  of  new  hopes  undimmed 
by  fears. 

By  the  time  they  reached  Salem  a  few 
other  real  estate  speculators  had  learned  of 
the  railroad,  and  had  descended  upon  the 
village.  With  these  Mr.  Hoddle  made 
prompt  acquaintance.  He  even  sold  them 
some  land,  —  at  twice  what  he  paid  for  it,  — 
and  as  quickly  as  possible  he  bought  other 
ground  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

The  boom  began.  It  attracted  strangers ; 
it  brought  a  horde  of  real  estate  agents ;  it 
revolutionized  the  village.  The  rough  inn 
became  a  hotel ;  the  eating-house  outgrew 
its  home-made  name  and  paraded  as  a 


TWO   BOOMS.  31 

restaurant.  Salem  was  no  longer  a  vil- 
lage; it  was  Salem  City.  Hoddle's  early 
arrival  on  the  field  had  given  him  the  pres- 
tige of  a  discoverer.  He  used  it  to  its  full- 
est value.  He  had  the  American  genius 
of  adaptability,  and  he  ensconced  himself 
snugly  in  the  boom. 

It  was  he  who  called  the  real  estate  men 
together  for  a  consultation.  They  answered 
the  summons.  Interested  in  selfish  results, 
their  very  selfishness  made  them  anxious  for 
the  future  of  the  town.  They  talked  and 
advised  and  orated  and  discussed.  But  the 
speech  of  the  day  was  made  by  Hoddle. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  we  all  want  this 
town  to  boom.  How  shall  we  do  it  ?  Two 
words  solve  the  problem  :  stand  together  ! 
We  shall  have  our  differences,  our  quarrels, 
and  our  contentions;  but  on  one  point  we 
must  be  unanimous :  we  must  talk  this  town 
up.  If  one  of  us  goes  away  he  must  boom 
Salem  City.  Every  man  must  be  an  adver- 
tising committee.  Get  interviewed  in  the 
papers ;  write  letters  ;  send  out  circulars  ; 
get  the  eye  of  the  world  on  Salem  ;  picture 
it  as  the  fairest  spot  on  earth.  If  any  man 
says  anything  against  our  boom,  denounce 
him  as  a  traitor  and  a  slanderer.  Blow 
hard,  and  blow  all  the  time.  A  boom  is 


32  TWO  BOOMS. 

like  a  balloon ;  you  've  got  to  inflate  it. 
We  may  have  our  little  differences  and  rival- 
ries among  ourselves  —  that 's  all  right ;  but 
one  thing  we  must  all  do  :  we  must  give  this 
boom  a  plenty  of  wind." 

Before  Hoddle  could  part  the  tails  of  his 
Prince  Albert  coat  and  sit  down,  a  great 
chorus  of  approval  greeted  his  outburst  of 
practical  eloquence.  He  had  struck  the 
key-note,  and  the  choir  of  real  estate  spec- 
ulators at  once  began  an  unceasing  pecan  to 
the  glory  of  Salem  City's  matchless  resources 
and  immeasurable  future. 

Hoddle  rode  triumphantly  on  the  crest 
of  the  boom.  The  admiring  populace  pro- 
moted him  to  a  colonelcy,  and  Colonel  Hod- 
dle took  hold  of  things  with  a  fine  grasp. 
He  ran  real  estate  speculation  at  full  speed 
with  both  throttles  open.  Selling  sugar  at 
cost  with  three  profits  on  coffee  was  n't  a 
circumstance.  When  an  investor  drifted  his 
way  he  gorged  him  with  adjectives,  deluged 
him  with  descriptions,  and  intoxicated  him 
with  figures.  It  was  worth  going  across 
the  continent  to  see  him  talk.  His  Prince 
Albert  coat,  as  if  afraid  to  conceal  such  a 
personality,  flopped  open  and  displayed  a 
wealth  of  shirt  bosom  that  seemed  to  reflect 
the  lustre  of  his  radiant  optimism.  He  did 


TWO  BOOMS.  33 

not  converse;  he  orated.  His  voice  had 
caught  the  breeziness  of  the  landscape,  and 
no  man  who  came  in  contact  with  him  could 
escape  without  feeling  that  Salem  City  was 
destined  to  outgrow  the  fullest  resources  of 
the  dictionary  and  the  multiplication-table. 
If  by  accident  any  man  doubted  after 
Colonel  Hoddle's  shower-bath  of  statistical 
enthusiasm,  the  colonel  would  remark : 
"  You  see  that  square  over  there  ?  Well, 
I  bought  it  two  months  ago  for  two  thou- 
sand. You  can  have  it  now  for  fifty  thou- 
sand. Come  back  this  time  next  year,  and 
I  '11  charge  you  a  hundred  thousand." 

And  so  the  boom  developed.  Organized 
exaggeration  spread  its  fame.  From  one 
end  of  the  country  to  the  other  the  papers 
told  of  its  marvellous  growth.  Investors 
who  would  demand  abundant  collateral 
and  ten  per  cent  at  home,  bought  corner 
lots  a  half-mile  from  Salem's  limits  with 
no  assurance  except  the  flattering  promises 
of  the  agents. 

All  this  was  intensified  by  the  survey  of 
the  new  Prairie  and  Deep  Water  Railroad, 
which  was  brought  to  the  northern  edge  of 
the  city.  There  it  was  hesitating  as  to 
which  route  to  take  to  get  it  to  the  river- 
front. Colonel  Hoodie  had  anticipated  it. 
3 


34  TWO  BOOMS. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  to  a  party  of  prop- 
erty owners  whom  he  had  assembled  in  his 
office,  "  this  road  is  being  built  by  New  York 
capitalists.  They  've  got  a  plenty  of  money. 
They  expect  to  spend  it.  The  situation  is 
in  our  hands.  We  can  offer  them  free 
ground  a  part  of  the  way  and  charge  them 
like  the  deuce  for  the  rest.  What  do  you 
say  to  a  syndicate  ?  " 

It  was  a  fruitful  suggestion.  The  syndi- 
cate was  formed.  The  plan  was  to  give  the 
road  right  of  way  along  the  eastern  side  of 
Salem  City,  and  make  up  all  gifts  a  dozen 
times  over  by  charging  ten  prices  for  termi- 
nal facilities. 

From  the"company  came  a  cordial  letter 
thanking  the  citizens  for  their  liberality. 
The  offer  would  be  considered  and  an 
answer  returned.  But  as  the  days  passed 
and  no  reply  was  received,  Hoddle  grew 
uneasy. 

"Windsor,  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 
asked  Colonel  Hoddle. 

Windsor  had  been  in  town  only  a  week,  — 
he  came  there,  he  said,  on  account  of  the 
climate,  —  but  in  that  short  time  he  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  every  man  in  the 
place,  of  Hoddle  especially.  "  I  like  you, 
colonel,"  he  had  said,  "because  you  are 


TWO  BOOMS.  35 

candid,  and  are  a  gentleman  a  man  can 
trust."  The  colonel  felt  flattered  and  recip- 
rocated the  friendship.  Moreover,  he  had 
seen  that  Windsor  was  a  man  of  insinuating 
usefulness.  He  had  a  peculiar  faculty  for 
finding  out  things.  For  instance,  the  day 
before,  a  little  information  through  Windsor 
had  led  to  a  bargain  which  netted  him  over 
a  thousand  dollars.  Windsor  seemed  to  be 
sincerely  attached  to  him  from  the  outset, 
and  the  colonel  saw  in  him  a  friend  who 
could  be  used.  The  abnormal  circum- 
stances of  the  boom  made  all  sorts  of 
attachments,  and  a  day  was  as  a  week  as 
far  as  social  acquaintance  went. 

So  the  colonel  called  Windsor  in  to  talk 
about  the  mysterious  silence  of  the  new 
railroad  people.  "It  looks  as  if  they  were 
going  to  play  some  dodge  on  us  and  escape 
our  syndicate,"  said  he. 

Windsor  was  silent.  He  was  wrapped  in 
corrugated  thought.  S  uddenly  he  arose  from 
his  chair  and  walked  up  and  down  the  office 
floor.  Just  as  suddenly  he  stopped  in  front 
of  the  colonel,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  By  George !  I  wonder  if  it  is  true  ?  " 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Why,  this.  Last  night  I  took  a  stroll  in 
the  West  End.  I  'm  troubled  with  insomnia, 


36  TWO  BOOMS. 

you  know,  and  I  often  go  out  at  night  to 
walk  myself  tired,  so  that  I  can  sleep.  It 
was  late.  Near  the  county  road  I  heard 
several  men  measuring  with  chains.  What 
did  it  mean  ?  I  wonder  if  it  was  n't  a  sur- 
veying party  ?  " 

The  colonel  jumped  up.  "  You  Ve  hit  it, 
my  dear  fellow — you've  hit  it.  My  sus- 
picions are  correct.  They  're  trying  to  get 
an  entrance  by  the  west  side." 

"Not  so  fast,  colonel;  I  may  be  mistaken. 
Let 's  make  sure  of  this  thing.  Come  with 
me  to-night,  and  we  '11  see  if  the  performance 
is  repeated." 

Late  that  night  two  men  crept  softly  along 
the  county  road.  At  first  they  heard  nothing, 
but  presently  sounds  of  a  company  of  men 
drifted  over  the  field.  They  crept  closer. 
They  saw  chains  and  compasses.  It  was  a 
surveying  party. 

The  next  day  the  colonel  was  a  busy  man. 
First  he  shifted  a  lot  of  his  own  real  estate ; 
then  he  kindly  informed  the  syndicate  of  his 
discoveries.  There  was  a  rush  to  the  West 
End  property,  and  it  was  intensified  upon 
the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  the  company 
politely  declining  the  proffers  of  the  syndi- 
cate. Colonel  Hoddle  was  happy,  for  he 
had  four  hours'  start  of  all  his  fellow-agents. 


TWO   BOOMS.  37 

In  all  the  hurry  of  speculation  Colonel 
Hoddle's  family  duties  were  not  neglected. 
He  had  a  happy  household.  Mrs.  Hoddle 
was  a  kindly  woman,  devoted,  domestic,  and 
popular.  She  had  easily  taken  her  position 
at  the  head  of  the  new  society  of  Salem 
City.  Her  daughter,  Miss  Elizabeth,  was 
by  common  consent  the  belle  of  the  future 
metropolis.  She  was  a  good  musician,  an 
easy-mannered,  approachable  girl  who  made 
friends  and  maintained  her  own  indepen- 
dence. The  family,  probably  the  wealthiest 
in  the  place,  had  the  handsomest  house,  and 
entertained  freely.  At  the  table  the  colonel 
was  a  royal  host.  After  he  parted  the  tails 
of  his  Prince  Albert  coat  and  sat  down, 
there  was  not  a  dull  moment. 

"  I  tell  you  that  Windsor  is  a  perfect 
mascot,"  he  said,  the  day  after  his  West 
End  deals.  "  If  he  will  only  stay  in  this 
town  we  will  soon  be  millionaires,  and  I 
suppose  I  will  be  obliged  to  get  elected  to 
the  United  States  Senate." 

Windsor  was  invited  to  dinner.  He  made 
himself  agreeable,  and  he  and  the  colonel 
cemented  their  friendship  by  an  entire  even- 
ing of  confidential  conversation,  sanctified 
by  the  plenteous  incense  of  tobacco  smoke. 

A  week  later  the  colonel  came  home  to 


38  TWO   BOOMS. 

dinner  in  very  good  spirits.  He  parted  the 
tails  of  his  Prince  Albert  coat  and  sat  down 
with  his  usual  dignity.  Something  seemed 
to  be  amusing  him.  It  got  into  his  throat, 
and  broke  out  into  short  spasms. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Hoddle. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing.  I  merely  want  to 
die  —  that 's  all." 

"What?" 

"Oh,  you  ought  to  have  met  him,  —  J. 
Maximilian  Ross.  Dwell  on  the  name,  — 
J.  Maximilian  Ross.  He  wears  it  all,  and  he 
lives.  He  's  got  it  engraved  on  cards.  He 
struggles  under  a  stove-pipe  hat.  I  've  seen 
him,  and  I  want  to  go  away  —  far,  far  away 
—  far  to  a  foreign  shore." 

"  Anthony,"  said  Mrs.  Hoddle,  severely, 
"  are  you  intoxicated  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Susanna — I  don't  know. 
Perhaps  I  am.  J.  Maximilian  Ross!" 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  Mr.  Hoddle,  who  are 
you  talking  about  ?  Be  sensible  for  once  in 
your  life." 

"Impossible,  dear  —  impossible.  Family 
association,  you  know." 

At  this  point  Miss  Elizabeth  came  to  her 
mother's  assistance.  It  was  the  combined 
curiosity  of  two  women  against  one  man. 


TWO  BOOMS.  39 

The  great  speculator  met  the  onslaught  by 
an  ignominious  surrender. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  tell  you.  He  came 
in  this  morning,  young,  fresh,  and  beautiful 
—  more  fresh  than  beautiful  —  fresh  from 
the  East,  fresh  from  New  York,  fresh  from 
a  bandbox.  But,  thanks  be  to  the  fates,  he 
was  salted  with  money.  That  caught  this 
bird ;  it  always  does.  He  wanted  to  invest. 
I  undertook  to  give  him  a  few  facts." 

"Facts?" 

"  No  interruption,  please.  Yes,  facts  and 
figures.  He  opened  his  mouth  and  swal- 
lowed them,  gulped  them  down,  feasted  on 
them.  This  afternoon  he  is  to  return,  and 
perhaps  I  '11  buy  you  a  case  of  diamonds  on 
the  proceeds." 

"Where  do  I  come  in?"  asked  Miss 
Elizabeth. 

"  I  '11  give  you  a  father's  blessing  and  J. 
Maximilian." 

"  Never  mind  the  blessing,"  was  the  re- 
sponse ;  "  I  '11  take  the  man." 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  fond  father,  "  when 
the  real  estate  agents  of  this  great  and 
booming  city  get  through  with  J.  Maximilian 
Ross  he  won't  have  enough  money  left  to 
get  back  home.  But"  —  looking  at  his 
watch  —  "  here  I  've  spent  all  this  time  and 


40  TWO   BOOMS. 

not  a  sale  to  show  for  it.  It 's  bad  policy. 
Next  time  I  get  married  I  'm  going  to  hunt 
up  the  ugliest  woman  in  America.  Then 
I  '11  never  want  to  leave  my  business." 

At  supper  that  night  he  was  as  beaming 
as  ever,  and  he  had  scarcely  got  the  napkin 
tucked  under  his  chin  —  which  performance, 
I  regret  to  say,  the  unperfected  culture  of 
the  uncompleted  city  allowed  —  before  he 
began  to  relate  the  events  of  the  afternoon. 

"J.  Maximilian  has  invested,"  he  said; 
"and  what  do  you  suppose  he  bought? 
That  mudhole  at  the  bend  of  the  j-iver. 
Cost  me  two  hundred  dollars.  Sold  it  to 
him  for  two  thousand  :  net  profits,  eighteen 
hundred.  He's  going  to  settle  here,  he 
thinks.  Poor  fellow!  we'll  try  to  make  it 
pleasant  for  him,  even  if  he  does  have  to 
pay  for  it.  I  Ve  invited  him  and  Windsor 
to  supper  to-morrow.  You  '11  have  to  stand 
him  for  an  hour  or  so  for  my  sake.  There 's 
nothing  like  flavoring  business  with  a  little 
hospitality,  you  know. 

The  next  evening  Mr.  Ross  came  to  tea. 
The  ladies  were  anxious  to  see  him.  Their 
expectations  were  not  disappointed.  They 
saw  a  tall,  fashionably  dressed  young  man, 
rather  good-looking,  but  entirely  emotionless 
as  far  as  outward  indications  went.  He  was 


TWO  BOOMS.  41 

not  a  fluent  talker,  but  he  selected  his  words 
with  intelligence,  and  his  occasional  stutter- 
ing did  not  greatly  interfere  with  his  speech. 
The  Hoddle  family  were  talkers,  and  with 
Windsor's  polite  assistance  they  made  up  for 
all  deficiencies,  and  conversation  went  with 
a  rush,  breaking  only  when  it  ran  against 
Mr.  Ross's  struggling  syllables.  The  meal 
went  off  with  comfortable  and  well-digested 
success,  and  the  party  adjourned  to  the  par- 
lor, where  Miss  Elizabeth  made  her  first 
effort  to  engage  the  guest  in  conversation. 

"  I  suppose  you  find  this  city  very  rough 
compared  to  your  Eastern  home?" 

"  Y-e-s,"  he  said,  slowly. 

This  was  not  an  enthusiastic  opening  of 
the  acquaintance,  but  it  did  not  discourage 
Miss  Elizabeth.  She  was  of  an  impression- 
able age,  men  were  few,  and  she  admired 
fashion  even  on  a  dummy. 

"  It  is  a  new  town,"  she  added. 

"  Y-e-s,  but  a  mighty  progressive  one." 

This  was  better.  In  fact  it  continued  to 
improve,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Miss 
Elizabeth  and  Mr.  Ross  were  carrying  on 
such  a  conversation  that  the  colonel  and 
Windsor  begged  permission  to  retire  to  the 
library  for  a  smoke. 

After  a  while  Mr.  Ross  looked  toward  the 


42  TWO  BOOMS. 

piano  and  asked  Miss  Elizabeth  if  she  played. 
She  did.  Would  she  play  ?  Certainly,  and 
she  did  so  with  great  satisfaction. 

He  was  glancing  over  her  music,  and 
presently  he  held  up  a  piece  and  said, — 

"  This  is  a  very  pretty  song.  Won't  you 
sing  it  ?  " 

"  Look  again,"  she  replied  ;  "  it's  a  duet." 

"  Why,  so  it  is !  How  stupid  of  me  !  But 
if  you  don't  mind,  I  might  spoil  it  by  assist- 
ing you." 

A  cheerful  assent,  a  few  introductory  bars, 
and  two  voices  joined  in  the  song.  It  was  a 
good  song  well  sung.  Mrs.  Hoddle  sat  silent, 
delighted  with  the  music.  But  in  the  delight 
crept  a  fear. 

"  You  have  a  lovely  voice  !  "  exclaimed  Miss 
Elizabeth,  just  as  the  song  was  finished. 

"  Really  that  is  not  fair,"  rejoined  J.  Maxi- 
milian ;  "  you  took  the  words  from  me.  You 
sing  b-beautifully." 

There  were  several  more  songs,  and  pres- 
ently the  colonel  and  Windsor  returned  from 
their  cigars.  The  evening  soon  ended,  and 
Mr.  Ross  and  Mr.  Windsor  were  invited  to 
call  again.  These  two  men  seemed  perfect 
opposites —Windsor  suave,  effusive,  confi- 
dential; Ross  cold,  distant,  indifferent;  and 
as  they  left  the  house  they  walked  on  as 


TWO   BOOMS.  43 

if  each  desired  to  be  a  stranger  to  the 
other. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  him?  "  asked 
the  colonel.  Miss  Elizabeth  had  slipped 
away,  and  the  colonel  and  his  wife  were 
alone. 

"  Anthony,  do  you  remember  the  night  you 
proposed  to  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  We  sang  a  duet,  and 
you  said  I  had  a  beautiful  —  yes,  that 's 
the  word  —  beautiful  voice." 

"  People  grow  more  truthful  as  they  grow 
older." 

But  the  colonel  ignored  the  interruption. 
"It  was  the  first  time  that  anybody  said  I 
could  sing  at  all,  and  I  proposed  on  the 
spot." 

"Anthony,  after  you  and  Mr.  Windsor 
went  to  the  library  to-night,  Elizabeth  and 
Mr.  Ross  sang  a  duet." 

"  The  mischief  they  did  !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  they  sang  better  than  we  did." 

"  Impossible ! " 

"  And  when  two  young  people  get  to 
singing  duets  it's  serious." 

"Well?" 

"  How  would  you  like  J.  Maximilian  Ross 
for  a  son-in-law  ?  " 

"  Merciful  Jupiter !    Susanna,  what  do  you 


44  TWO  BOOMS. 

mean  ?     Why,  I  'd  feel  disgraced  for  life. 
I  'd  sell  out  and  emigrate." 

The  result  of  it  all  was  that  the  colonel's 
antipathy  to  the  young  man  increased  a 
hundredfold.  "  If  he  was  a  man,"  he  said, 
"I  wouldn't  mind.  But  that  thing?  Not 
much ! " 

In  business  he  called  him  "the  dude  with 
the  parted  name."  At  home  he  alluded  to 
him  tenderly  as  J.  Maxie. 

"  Colonel,"  said  a  caller  one  day,  "  I  want 
to  sell  that  lot  of  mine  over  in  East  Sa- 
lem." 

"Sorry,  major,"  replied  the  colonel,  "but 
I  would  n't  take  it  at  any  price.  The  only 
person  I  know  who  '11  buy  is  that  picturesque 
ass  J.  Maximilian  Ross.  You  can  sell  him 
anything." 

So  it  became  the  colonel's  standing  advice 
to  people  who  wanted  to  dispose  of  unsalable 
lots  to  go  to  J.  Maximilian  Ross.  They 
always  went.  They  found  the  same  in- 
different young  man.  He  didn't  want  to 
buy  particularly  ;  in  fact  he  thought  he  had 
enough  land  already;  but  what  was  their 
price  ?  That  much  ?  Oh,  it  was  too  high, 
you  know.  It  wasn't  right  to  impose  on 
a  stranger.  Then  the  owner  would  come 
down,  and  when  he  got  low  enough,  J. 


TWO  BOOMS.  45 

Maximilian  Ross  would  offer  a  little  less, 
and  the  bargain  was  closed. 

More  than  a  month  elapsed.  The  boom 
was  confined  to  West  Side  property,  and  the 
young  city  was  full  of  speculation.  J.  Max- 
imilian took  life  quietly.  He  visited  the 
Hoddles;  he  took  Miss  Elizabeth  driving; 
he  made  few  acquaintances,  and  he  wore 
the  same  indifference  that  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  the  East. 

"Windsor,"  said  the  colonel,  "it  does 
seem  that  this  whole  town  is  palming  off 
its  bad  lots  on  the  dude,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

"  It  looks  that  way." 

"  I  notice  that  he  is  still  sinking  his  money 
on  the  East  Side.  He  was  fool  enough  to 
buy  that  mud-hole.  I  wonder  if  I  could  n't 
get  rid  of  those  lots  around  it?  Do  you 
think  we  can  work  it  ?  " 

"  Suppose  I  talk  with  him  ?  " 

"All  right." 

He  did  so.  The  result  was  a  sale  at  a 
figure  that  made  the  colonel  jubilant. 

"  Well,"  said  he  at  the  supper-table,  "  I  'm 
glad  J.  Maxie  settled  in  this  town.  He  's 
such  a  tender  bird,  so  innocent,  so  easy  to 
pluck.  I  got  several  thousands  more  out 
of  him  to-day." 

"  I  would  n't  boast  of  it  if  I  were  you," 
said  Miss  Elizabeth. 


40  TWO  BOOMS. 

"My  dear,"  responded  the  father,  "if  a 
fool  and  his  money  are  soon  parted,  it's 
the  fault  of  the  fool ;  and  if  nature  did  n't 
supply  us  with  fools,  what  would  become 
of  speculation?" 

"  Father,  did  it  ever  strike  you  that  Mr. 
Ross  is  not  as  big  a  fool  as  he  looks  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  colonel,  reflectively  ; 
"  it  strikes  me  he  is  a  bigger  fool  than  he 
looks." 

All  this  did  not  affect  the  visits  that  J. 
Maximilian  Ross  made  to  the  colonel's 
house,  —  visits  which  were  musical  with 
duets.  Mr.  Ross  was  very  attentive,  and 
Miss  Elizabeth  seemed  bright  and  happy. 
The  colonel  bore  it  all  with  an  easy  grace. 
He  believed  in  the  fullest  freedom,  and  he 
would  do  nothing  to  restrict  the  happiness 
of  his  daughter.  Furthermore,  he  scarcely 
thought  that  anything  would  result  from 
the  acquaintanceship.  He  gave  Miss  Eliza- 
beth credit  for  more  sense. 

But  he  calculated  wrongly.  It  was  the 
same  old  story.  The  director  of  those  duets 
was  a  merry  little  fellow  named  Cupid.  And 
he  did  his  work  well. 

Mrs.  Hoddle  saw  the  result.  "  Elizabeth," 
said  she,  one  day  when  they  were  alone,  "  has 
Mr.  Ross  proposed  yet  ?  " 


TWO  BOOMS.  47 

"  Not  yet,"  was  the  reply,  uttered  in  mock 
seriousness;  "but  I  expect  him  to  soon. 
He  's  very  slow,  you  know."  And  with  a 
laugh  to  hide  the  rising  blushes,  she  fled 
from  the  room. 

Mrs.  Hoddle  shook  her  head  and  said 
nothing.  She  did  not  even  mention  it  to 
the  colonel. 

But  Mr.  J.  Maximilian  Ross  had  some- 
thing to  say.  It  was  about  a  week  after- 
ward. He  entered  the  colonel's  office,  and 
found  the  great  speculator  alone.  The 
colonel  parted  the  tails  of  his  Prince  Albert 
coat  as  usual,  sat  down  with  dignity,  and 
placing  his  fingers  together,  said :  — 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

J.  Maximilian  sat  bolt-upright,  and  tugged 
away  on  his  glove. 

"  Colonel,  I  came  to  ask  a  great  favor  of 
you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  hand  of  your  daughter.'' 

"W-h-a-t?    You? 

"  Yes  ;  why  not  ?  " 

"  You  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish  any  information  about  my 
position  and  my  family  —  " 

"Your  family,"  interrupted  the  colonel, 
with  steadily  rising  wrath  —  "  your  family  ? 


48  TWO   BOOMS. 

Do  you  think  my  daughter  wants  to  marry 
your  family  ?  How  much  will  your  ances- 
tors honor  your  note  for  ?  " 

"  I  have  money." 

"  You  have  now.  But,  great  Scott !  how 
long  will  you  have  it  ?  The  way  you  're 
going,  you  '11  be  a  beggar  inside  of  six 
months.  What  do  I  care  for  your  family  ? 
I  've  seen  you  ;  that 's  enough.  I  want  my 
daughter  to  marry  a  man  who  can  make 
money,  not  one  who  throws  it  away." 

"  Is  that  your  answer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  is.  And  it  will  continue  to  be 
my  answer  until  you  can  show  that  you  have 
sense  enough  to  get  in  when  it  rains.  For 
Heaven's  sake,  young  man,  do  something 
—  do  something  !  Try  to  be  a  man.  Give 
nature  some  excuse  for  your  existence." 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  asked  J.  Maximilian,  in 
the  coolest  possible  way. 

The  colonel  fell  back  in  his  chair.  His 
feelings  had  overcome  his  powers  of  speech. 

J.  Maximilian  arose,  walked  quietly  to  the 
door,  and  remarking,  "  Very  sorry  to  have 
troubled  you  —  good-afternoon,"  sauntered 
down  the  street  as  unconcernedly  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  The  fires  might  have 
been  raging  within,  but  all  was  unimpas- 
sioned  without. 


TWO  BOOMS.  49 

Not  so  with  the  colonel.  For  a  few 
minutes  his  collapse  continued.  Then  he 
gradually  recovered.  The  more  he  recov- 
ered, the  higher  his  vehemence  rose.  He 
felt  like  the  hero  of  Bitter  Creek,  who 
wanted  all  creation  to  come  into  that  room 
so  that  he  could  get  a  chance  to  thrash  it. 
It  required  two  days  for  him  to  cool  down  to 
his  normal  temperature. 

But  the  colonel  knew  womankind  well 
enough  not  to  adopt  arbitrary  measures. 
All  he  said  to  his  daughter  was  :  — 

"  Elizabeth,  you  are  a  girl  of  good  sense, 
and  I  've  only  one  thing  to  ask  of  you. 
When  you  think  of  getting  married  don't 
marry  a  fool." 

"  I  won't,  father.     Be  sure  of  that." 

J.  Maximilian  Ross  continued  to  pursue  a 
very  quiet  course.  He  had  money,  but  he 
very  frankly  said  that  he  could  not  afford  to 
buy  expensive  property.  He  was  willing  to 
invest  modestly,  and  wait  for  a  gradual  rise 
in  values.  The  boom  was  going  on  almost 
entirely  in  West  Side  land.  The  contem- 
plated railroad  there  promised  to  shift  the 
business  centre  of  the  city  and  concentrate 
values  in  that  locality.  Westward  the  course 
of  speculation  took  its  way.  The  crowds 
went  with  it.  On  East  Side  lots  prices  fell. 
4 


50  TWO  BOOMS. 

As  the  only  buyer,  J.  Maximilian  Ross  se- 
cured bargains  at  his  own  figure.  He 
seemed  to  buy  because  the  agents  persuaded 
him  into  buying,  not  because  he  wanted  it. 
One  day  he  made  an  offer  for  the  square 
owned  by  Colonel  Hoddle.  The  colonel's 
price  was  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

"  Twenty-five  is  all  I  can  give,"  said  J. 
Maximilian. 

"  Then  you  won't  get  it,"  said  the  colonel. 

The  railroad  people  were  strangely  inac- 
tive. They  had  not  begun  operations  around 
Salem.  Suspicion  took  hold  of  the  agents. 
As  usual,  the  colonel  consulted  Windsor. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

Windsor  pulled  a  letter  from  his  pocket. 
It  was  from  New  York,  and  in  it  was  this 
sentence :  "  We  hear  that  the  Prairie  and 
Deep  Water  Railroad  people  have  changed 
their  programme.  They  are  going  to  take 
their  road  to  Concord  instead  of  to  Salem. 
They  claim  that  it  will  be  cheaper." 

This  perturbed  the  great  speculator.  He 
thought  of  it  all  night.  The  next  morning 
he  got  the  local  paper  from  Concord. 

"  We  can  state  on  good  authority,"  said 
the  "  Concord  Civilizer,"  in  leaded  type, 
"  that  the  new  railroad  has  selected  Concord 
for  its  terminus.  This  shows  good  sense. 


TWO  BOOMS.  51 

Salem  City  —  the  idea  of  a  one-horse  town 
being  called  a  city  !  —  is  nothing  but  a  mud- 
hole  worked  by  a  gang  of  speculators  who 
have  sunk  other  people's  money  so  deep  that 
they  will  never  see  it  again.  Concord  is  the 
future  metropolis !  Hurrah  for  us !  We 
will  have  ten  thousand  population  inside  of 
a  year ! " 


II. 


COLONEL  Hoddle  was  a  man  of  action. 
He  did  not  hesitate.  The  boast  of  the  "  Con- 
cord Civilizer  "  by  itself  meant  little.  Taken 
in  connection  with  Windsor's  letter,  it  meant 
everything. 

To  Concord  the  colonel  hastened.  He 
looked  over  the  town  thoroughly  ;  he  found 
a  large  and  active  boom  there.  Prices  had 
jumped,  and  he  could  buy  nothing  except  a 
few  stray  lots,  which  he  picked  up  with  all 
eagerness.  West  of  Concord  was  a  tract 
two  hundred  acres  in  extent.  Could  he  get 
that?  He  would  try. 

Back  to  Salem  City  he  went.  He  told 
Windsor  of  the  land,  and  asked  him  to  find 
out  who  owned  it.  In  a  day's  time  Windsor 
got  the  information.  He  entered  the  office 


52  TWO   BOOMS. 

with  a  smile.  "Who  do  you  think  owns 
that  land?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"J.  Maximilian  Ross;  and  what's  more, 
I  believe  you  can  get  it  away  from  him  if 
you  want  it." 

The  colonel  grabbed  his  hat,  and  without 
taking  time  to  thank  Windsor,  made  straight 
for  Ross's  office.  He  found  the  young  man 
in.  Negotiations  for  the  purchase  were 
begun  at  once. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  it  ?  Name  your 
lowest  price,  and  don't  hesitate,  for  I  have  n't 
any  time  to  lose." 

"Well,"  replied  J.  Maximilian,  with  his 
usual  slowness,  "  that  land  ought  to  be 
worth  one  hundred  thousand ;  but  I  need 
some  money,  and  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do 
—  give  me  that  square  you  own  on  the  East 
Side,  that  new  house  you  have  just  finished 
on  the  Heights,  and  twenty  thousand  dollars 
in  cash,  and  I  '11  deed  you  the  two  hundred 
acres." 

The  colonel  rapidly  computed  the  values. 
The  square  he  held  at  fifty  thousand,  the 
house  at  ten  thousand,  and  with  the  twenty 
thousand  cash  the  total  was  eighty  thousand. 
But  the  fall  in  the  boom  had  knocked  Salem 
prices  down  nearly  one-third,  and  he  was 


TWO   BOOMS.  53 

getting  his  bargain  for  something  like  sixty 
thousand. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  take  it." 

The  papers  were  drawn  up  and  signed 
that  day.  At  tea  the  colonel  was  jubilant. 

"  I  saw  J.  Maxie  again  to-day,"  he  said. 

"So  did  I,"  says  Miss  Elizabeth. 

"But  the  case  is  different,"  replied  the 
colonel,  with  a  slight  frown.  "  J.  Maxie 
will  soon  be  very  sorry  that  he  ever  met  me. 
There's  no  use  denying  the  fact  that  the 
boom  in  this  town  is  played  out ;  that  rail- 
road is  not  coming  here.  It's  going  to 
Concord,  and  it  will  take  the  boom  with  it. 
Well,  J.  Maxie  owned  two  hundred  acres 
near  that  town  of  as  pretty  land  as  you 
could  want.  He  does  n't  own  it  now ;  it  is 
in  the  possession  of  your  humble  servant." 

"How  did  you  get  it?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hoddle. 

"  Policy  and  cash,  my  dear,  and  my  mascot 
Windsor.  I  expected  to  pay  a  hundred 
thousand  for  it ;  I  got  it  for  sixty.  I  was 
sorry  that  J.  Maximilian  was  so  easy  to 
pluck,  but  forty  thousand  dollars  is  enough 
consolation  to  heal  a  week  of  sorrow.  I  got 
his  land  for  twenty  thousand  cash,  which  I 
raised  on  mortgages,  the  East  Side  square 
that  won't  be  worth  twenty  thousand  one 


54  TWO   BOOMS. 

week  from  now,  and  that  new  house  on  the 
Heights." 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  give  me 
that  house  some  time  for  a  wedding  pres- 
ent," interrupted  Miss  Elizabeth. 

"Sol  intended,  my  dear ;  but  you  know 
circumstances  alter  cases.  After  a  while 
we  '11  move  to  Concord,  and  when  you  meet 
your  fate  there,  I  '11  do  the  handsome  thing 
and  build  you  a  palace.  As  for  J.  Maxi- 
milian, I  suppose  we  '11  have  to  leave  him  to 
pull  his  cash  out  of  these  Salem  City  mud- 
holes.  Poor  fellow,  how  unfortunate  it  is 
that  nature  did  n't  give  him  less  style  and 
more  sense ! " 

For  an  hour  the  conversation  lasted.  It 
was  an  important  subject,  the  probability 
of  removal,  but  the  colonel  smoothed  down 
all  objections  by  describing  the  superior 
climate  of  Concord  and  the  added  riches 
that  his  new  speculations  would  bring. 
They  would  live  in  a  finer  house,  he  would 
enter  politics,  and  a  trip  to  Europe  should 
become  a  summer  vacation.  They  adjourned 
to  the  parlor;  a  minute  afterward  J.  Maxi- 
milian Ross  was  ushered  in.  Never  was 
he  so  carefully  dressed.  Never  did  he  ap- 
pear so  calm  and  so  polite.  He  bowed  with 
conventional  courtliness,  and  then  said,  in 
his  indifferent  way,  — 


TWO   BOOMS.  55 

"  Colonel,  I  came  to  see  you  about  a  little 
matter."  , 

"  Business  ?  " 

"Not  especially.  I  came  to  see  if  you 
would  deliver  the  address  on  behalf  of  the 
city  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of 
the  new  railroad." 

"  What  city  ?  "  gasped  the  colonel. 

"  Why,  Salem,  of  course." 

"  Young  man,  are  you  crazy  ?  The  rail- 
road is  not  coming  here ;  it  is  going  to 
Concord." 

J.  Maximilian  Ross  raised  his  eyebrows 
in  surprise.  "  I  think  you  're  mistaken  ;  it 's 
coming  here." 

"  Explain  yourself,"  commanded  the  colo- 
nel, with  an  excitement  that  was  unusual  to 
his  nature. 

The  conversation  had  taken  place  so  rap- 
idly that  the  two  men  were  still  standing. 

"  When  the  plans  of  the  new  railroad  were 
announced,"  said  J.  Maximilian,  "  everything 
seemed  easy,  but  somebody  got  up  a  syndi- 
cate in  Salem  to  make  the  company  pay 
more  for  terminals  than  it  could  afford.  So 
I  was  sent  on  here  to  see  about  it." 

"  You  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Of  course  you  know  that  I  am  the 
representative  of  the  company  here  ?  " 


56  TWO  BOOMS. 

The  colonel  was  speechless.  Mrs.  Hoddle 
looked  on  in  open-mouthed  wonder.  Miss 
Elizabeth  turned  her  chair  to  the  fire  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

J.  Maximilian  talked  on  without  the  faint- 
est sign  of  emotion.  "  I  had  a  hard  time," 
he  continued,  "  to  switch  the  speculation 
over  to  the  western  side  of  the  city  while 
I  bought  our  right  of  way  at  reduced  rates 
on  the  east ;  but  it  was  a  great  success.  We 
saved  at  least  twenty  thousand  right  down 
at  the  river  front.  I  believe  I  bought  that 
of  you,  colonel  ?  " 

The  colonel  groaned.  "  Go  on,"  he  said. 
"  What  about  yesterday's  deal  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  had  to  have  that  square  for  the 
company's  central  building,  and  I  could  n't 
pay  over  twenty-five  thousand  for  it.  I  tried 
to  get  it,  but  you  wouldn't  come  down.  So 
I  put  ten  thousand  in  a  lot  of  land  at  Con- 
cord, and  got  about  eighty  thousand  for  it 
Sorry  for  you,  colonel,  but  it  had  to  be 
done." 

"  But  Windsor  told  me  that  the  railroad 
was  going  there  ! " 

"  I  hope  you  don't  trust  Windsor ;  he  is  n't 
reliable." 

The  colonel's  voice  was  growing  husky. 
The  color  left  his  face.  Suddenly  he 


TWO   BOOMS.  57 

cried  out,  "  Young  man,  you  have  ruined 
me !  " 

The  cry  did  not  disturb  the  young  man's 
equanimity.  He  quietly  replied,  "  Oh  no,  I 
haven't;  I've  got  until  Saturday  to  keep 
the  plans  quiet.  To-morrow  will  be  Thurs- 
day. If  you  cannot  turn  that  land  over  at 
a  good  profit  in  two  days  you  're  not  what 
I  take  you  to  be.  But  I  make  my  silence 
conditional." 

"  What 's  the  condition  ?  " 

"  That  you  deliver  that  address." 

The  colonel's  smile  returned.  It  cleared 
away  the  fog  from  his  throat  and  the  clouds 
from  his  face. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  he  said ;  "  I 
will  deliver  the  speech.  I  '11  "make  some- 
body pay  me  a  hundred  thousand  for  that 
property.  But,  Mr.  Ross,  if  there  is  any- 
thing else  in  this  county  that  you  want, 
please  let  me  know." 

J.  Maximilian  looked  over  to  the  rocking- 
chair.  Love's  signal  service  worked  to  a 
charm.  The  colonel  saw  it ;  Mrs.  Hoddle 
saw  it.  No  words  were  needed  to  empha- 
size it.  For  fifteen  seconds  the  air  was 
eloquent  with  silence ;  it  seemed  like  fifteen 
minutes. 

"  Perhaps  you  know  now  why  I  wanted 


5»  TWO  BOOMS. 

that  house  on  the  Heights.  Elizabeth  seems 
to  like  it  so  well." 

"Yes,"  said  Elizabeth;  "father  likes  it 
too." 

The  colonel  blushed  —  actually  blushed  ; 
but  presently  he  said :  "  I  have  only  one 
favor  to  ask.  Postpone  this  wedding 
long  enough  for  me  to  pay  my  respects 
to  Windsor." 

"  I  don't  think  we  can,"  said  Mr.  Ross. 

"Why?" 

"  You  see  the  climate  does  n't  agree  with 
Windsor  as  much  as  he  thought.  He's 
afraid  of  a  change.  Sometimes  people  like 
him  very  much  for  a  while,  and  then  they 
turn  around  and  dislike  him  equally  as 
much.  His  midnight  surveying  parties  will 
not  be  popular  when  people  understand 
them.  I  fear,  too,  that  he  is  responsible 
for  that  Concord  boom,  and  when  it  reacts, 
as  it  will  do  next  week,  this  locality  will  not 
be  as  healthy  for  him  as  he  would  like.  All 
in  all,  I  thought  it  best  to  send  him  back 
home." 

"  You  ?  "  demanded  the  colonel. 

And  J.  Maximilian  Ross  looked  up  with 
all  the  innocence  of  a  sudden  surprise,  and 
said,  slowly  and  sweetly :  "  Really,  this  is 
singular.  Did  n't  Windsor  tell  you  that 
he  was  my  confidential  agent  ? " 


TWO   BOOMS.  59 

The  colonel  looked  at  the  young  man  in 
a  dazed  sort  of  way,  and  sank  silently  into 
the  big  plush  chair.  And  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  forgot  to  part  the  tails  of  his 
Prince  Albert  coat. 

As  for  J.  Maximilian  Ross,  he  walked  over 
to  Mrs.  Hoddle,  and  unrolling  a  sheet  of 
music,  asked  her  if  she  objected  to  listening 
to  a  new  duet. 


IN   THE   EARLY  CHRISTMAS 
MORNING. 

WHEN  Samuel  Newton  sat  in  his  office 
the  day  before  Christmas  and  looked 
vacantly  out  through  the  window,  he  was 
doing  something  he  seldom  did  —  he  was 
wasting  time.  He  simply  could  n't  work. 
You  can't  expect  a  man  to  concentrate  any- 
thing —  even  his  mind  —  when  he  has  pro- 
posed to  a  widow  and  is  waiting  for  her  to 
think  it  over.  You  can't  expect  a  man  to 
keep  his  energy  moving  when  his  mill  prop- 
erty has  been  closed  by  a  general  strike, 
with  no  apparent  likelihood  of  settlement. 
You  can't  expect  a  man  to  be  satisfied  with 
himself  when  he  has  outdone  his  own  sense 
of  generosity  by  purchasing  a  ten-dollar  gift 
for  a  small  boy,  even  if  that  boy  be  the 
widow's  son.  And  when  you  combine  the 
uncertainty  of  the  widow  with  the  certainty 
of  the  strike  —  not  to  mention  the  boy  — 
what  can  you  expect? 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      6l 

Well,  anything !  A  bachelor  in  love  after 
forty  is  a  sight  for  the  gods.  The  youth  of 
twenty  or  thereabouts,  or  even  the  young 
man  on  the  bright  side  of  thirty,  has  the 
same  emotions ;  but  they  fit  him  better. 
He  nurses  them  as  he  does  his  mustache, 
and  saves  himself  from  absolute  submission 
to  the  young  lady  by  the  somewhat  cheerful 
conceit  that  he  is  a  great  fellow  among  the 
girls.  But  while  love  ceases  to  be  an  emo- 
tion and  becomes  a  plan  of  campaign  with 
many  women  after  forty,  with  a  man  it 
engrosses  —  it  overwhelms.  It  is  the  seeth- 
ing maelstrom  in  which  the  poor  fellow  is 
whirled  around  by  alternate  currents  of 
ecstasy  and  despair.  In  fact,  after  forty 
love  is  a  very  serious  disease,  a  kind  of  diz- 
ziness of  the  head  and  heart,  and  the  condi- 
tion of  a  patient  who  is  waiting  for  a 
widow's  answer  is  what  the  doctors  call 
critical. 

Rev.  Paul  Worthington  said  all  this,  and 
he  ought  to  know,  for  he  was  in  love  him- 
self ;  and  he  had  a  right  to  know  about  this 
particular  case,  which  seemed  to  be  the 
exception  that  proved  the  rule,  because  the 
young  lady  he  loved  was  the  cousin  to 
the  widow  Samuel  Newton  loved.  In  the 
abstract,  the  Rev.  Paul  Worthington  knew 


62      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

more  about  the  art  of  love  than  Mr.  Ovid 
who  wrote  the  book,  or  the  Massachusetts 
gentleman  who  married  seventeen  different 
wives  in  eight  different  States;  but  in  the 
concrete  he  was  a  failure. 

Incidentally,  you  would  never  have  taken 
these  two  men  for  a  pair  of  passion-tattered 
swains.  Samuel  Newton  was  the  leading 
banker  and  broker  of  Sandfort's  two  thou- 
sand population,  a  prosaic,  steady,  unevent- 
ful sort  of  man,  who  had  trained  himself 
into  a  financial  monotony.  Rev.  Paul 
Worthington,  big  of  body  and  bigger  still 
of  heart,  had  charge  of  the  largest  church  in 
town,  and  his  earnestness,  eloquence,  and 
remarkable  popularity  had  built  its  congre- 
gation to  crowded  proportions.  He  was  the 
rare  kind  of  clergyman  who  preaches  the 
dogma  of  one  denomination  and  practises 
the  virtues  of  all.  People  shook  him  cor- 
dially by  the  hand  and  asked  him  to  dinner. 
They  bowed  to  Samuel  Newton  and  passed 
on. 

But  the  clergyman,  with  the  vantage  of 
the  only  intimate  friendship  in  which  Mr. 
Newton  had  ever  indulged  —  they  had  been 
playmates  and  schoolmates  and  men  to- 
gether —  knew  that  the  broker  possessed 
emotions  and  aspirations  above  the  usual 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      63 

six  per  cent.  For  instance,  when  "  Cash  " 
contributed  a  good  large  sum  to  the  church 
fund,  and  when  the  same  anonymous  bene- 
factor helped  the  poor,  the  Rev.  Paul 
Worthington,  who  distributed  the  money, 
knew  who  "Cash"  was.  The  people 
did  n't. 

Mr.  Newton  was  still  staring  into  the 
void  filled  by  the  widow's  uncertainty  when 
the  clergyman  entered  the  office  and  said 
something  about  the  false  economy  of  peo- 
ple who  preferred  ruined  carpets  to  the 
expense  of  a  door-mat.  The  banker  did  not 
rise  to  the  sarcasm  of  the  occasion,  nor  did 
he  properly  greet  the  invitation  which  fol- 
lowed to  go  out  on  the  sidewalk  and  indulge 
in  a  snow-battle. 

"  You  're  talking  nonsense,"  was  his  com- 
ment. 

"  My  dear  Samuel,  nonsense  is  the  wis- 
dom of  life.  Without  it  existence  would  be 
a  dirge ;  but  with  folly  life  is  a  song.  Woe 
be  to  the  man  who  outgrows  the  spirit  of 
youth !  " 

There  was  no  response. 

"  I  think  I  said  '  woe,'  "  he  added. 

The  banker,  ignoring  both  the  original 
remark  and  the  addition,  arose  and  shut  the 
door  that  led  to  the  other  office.  Then, 


64     IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

drawing  his  chair  closer,  he  said  with  solemn 
and  sudden  confidence,  — 

"  Paul,  I  have  proposed  to  the  Widow 
Stonington." 

"  How  —  how  did  you  do  it  ?  "  asked  the 
astonished  visitor. 

"  It  was  a  premeditated  act." 

"Well?" 

"  Ml  tell  you  all  about  it,  but  for  Heaven's 
sake  don't  laugh  at  me.  I  thought  that  the 
strike  down  at  the  mill  was  bad  enough,  but 
this  waiting  for  an  answer  is  the  most  serious 
experience  I  ever  passed  through  in  all  my 
life.  I  've  been  in  love  with  her  ever  since 
we  went  to  school  together,  but  it  was  in  my 
quiet  way,  and  before  I  knew  it  she  was 
engaged  to  Dick  Stonington.  Now  she  has 
been  a  widow  four  years,  and  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  I  've  been  calling  there  off 
and  on  three  years.  Well,  this  week  I  deter- 
mined to  settle  it ;  I  've  had  enough  of 
living  alone.  So  last  night  I  went  to  see 
her.  I  entered  the  room  as  usual ;  she 
took  the  little  rocker  by  the  lamp-stand  as 
usual ;  I  sat  down  in  the  big  arm-chair  over 
near  the  fireplace  as  usual.  I  thought  I  'd 
out  with  it  at  once,  but  it  would  n't  come. 
So  I  talked  about  the  weather;  we  talked 
about  the  weather ;  we  got  to  talking  about 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      65 

the  town  and  by  and  by  we  were  discussing 
your  sermon  of  last  Sunday,  and  when  she 
indorsed  what  you  said  about  the  strength 
of  human  love,  saving  the  world  from  abso- 
lute loneliness,  I  grabbed  hold  of  each  arm 
of  the  chair,  and  sitting  bolt  upright,  with 
every  nerve  in  my  body  tingling  like  an 
electric  current,  I  said,  '  Margaret,  will  you 
be  my  wife  ? '  " 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  exclaimed  the  clergyman, 
when  Mr.  Newton  paused. 

"Well,  it  seemed  to  transfix  her.  Her 
ball  of  zephyr  rolled  to  the  floor,  and  her 
fancy-work  got  demoralized.  I  sat  there 
half  scared  to  death  and  afraid  to  move- 
She  was  just  about  to  speak  when  Tom  — 
that  confounded  boy  of  hers  —  came  in  and 
interrupted  us.  He  stayed  so  long,  and  all 
my  feelings  became  so  completely  mixed, 
that  I  simply  had  to  get  out  of  the  room. 
She  followed  me  to  the  door  and  said  she 
supposed  she  would  consider  it,  and  would 
let  me  know.  I  asked  her  if  two  days  would 
be  long  enough.  She  said  that  it  would." 

Mr.  Newton  paused,  and  then  added,  as 
if  it  were  a  postscript,  — 

"  By  the  way,  after  I  reached  the  walk  she 
called  to  me   and  asked  if  I  had  left  my 
umbrella.     I  said  no,  and  came  on." 
5 


66      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

"  You  said  no ! "  exclaimed  the  clergyman. 
"  You  are  a  disgrace  to  your  sex.  Somebody 
ought  to  take  you  down  to  the  mill-pond  and 
cut  a  hole  in  the  ice  and  chuck  you  in." 

"  Now,  what  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Done  ?  Why,  that  umbrella  was  a  hint 
for  you  to  go  back  and  get  her  answer,  and 
you  walked  off  like — like  —  " 

"I  don't  care  if  I  did,"  interrupted  the 
banker.  "  I  believe  in  full  deliberation, 
although,"  a  pause,  "  this  waiting  is  wear- 
ing. Any  way,"  another  pause,  "I  gave 
that  boy  of  hers  a  ten-dollar  sled  this  morn- 
ing. It's  pure  extravagance,  I  know,  but 
don't  you  think  it  will  help  me  ?  " 

"Samuel,"  said  the  clergyman,  impres- 
sively, "  what  a  widow  wants  is  not  delibera- 
tion or  sleds,  but  sentiment." 

"  Well,  how  ought  a  man  to  propose  ?  " 

"  A  man  ought  to  propose  with  his  heart, 
and  not  with  his  intellect ;  with  his  soul,  and 
not  with  his  bank-account." 

The  insinuation  nettled  the  banker.  He 
said  something  like  "  Bosh  ! "  and  added : 
"If  you  know  so  much  about  it,  why  don't 
you  discuss  the  question  with  Catherine 
Downham  ?  " 

"  I  '11  answer  you  seriously,  although  you 
do  not  deserve  it,"  he  replied.  "  I  'm  afraid. 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      67 

It 's  worth  living  a  life  just  to  love  such  a 
woman,  —  just  to  hope  that  sometime  she 
may  return  that  love.  I  have  tried  to  bring 
myself  to  a  proposal,  but  what  if  she  should 
say  '  no '  ?  Is  n't  the  hope  of  a  '  yes '  better 
than  the  risk  of  a  rejection  ?  When  uncer- 
tainty is  bliss,  isn't  it  folly  to  have  the 
dream  dispelled  ?  " 

"You  need  a  guardian,"  commented  the 
banker.  "  I  thought  you  were  a  man  of 
sense." 

They  finally  argued  each  other  into  gen- 
eral dissatisfaction.  The  discussion  might 
have  lasted  all  day  had  not  Mr.  Worthing- 
ton  ended  it. 

"  I  dropped  in  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "  on  an 
altogether  different  matter,  and  I  'm  glad  I 
did.  We  both  need  a  fresh  experience,  and 
I  've  a  plan  that  will  do  us  good.  I  want  you 
to  come  to  my  house  at  midnight.  Come 
quietly,  and  don't  let  any  one  see  you. 
Never  mind  about  that,"  he  added,  rising 
and  heading  off  all  questions.  "  I  '11  explain 
everything  to-night." 

Promptly  at  midnight  Samuel  Newton 
walked  into  the  clergyman's  study. 

"  On  time,  as  usual,"  was  the  greeting  he 
received.  "  Sit  down  there  and  write  some- 
thing for  me  on  this  card." 


68      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

The  banker  took  a  seat  as  requested. 

"  Disguise  your  handwriting  and  write, 
'  With  all  the  happiness  of  a  Merry  Christ- 
mas.' "  He  did  so. 

"  If  I  'm  not  trespassing,"  said  Mr.  New- 
ton, "  I  'd  like  to  know  what  all  this  is 
about." 

"  Certainly.  I  have  had  to  make  a  new 
plan  of  distributing  our  Christmas  remem- 
brances this  year.  You  see,  we  have  only 
two  or  three  people  in  our  congregation 
who  are  really  in  want,  but  there  are  a  lot 
more  who  go  to  other  churches  who  need 
food  and  the  churches  are  not  rich  enough 
to  do  anything  for  them ;  so  I  've  decided  to 
use  your  three  hundred  dollars  in  seeing 
that  they  are  not  forgotten." 

"  Good  for  you !  "  exclaimed  the  banker, 
with  more  enthusiasm  than  he  usually 
showed.  "  Your  heart  is  bigger  than  your 
creed,  as  it  ought  to  be." 

"And  to  do  this,"  continued  the  clergy- 
man, "you  and  I,  with  a  big  sleigh  full  of 
things  and  Bucephalus  for  a  reindeer,  are 
going  to  play  Santa  Claus." 

"We  are  going  to  do  what?"  asked  the 
astonished  banker. 

"  Now  you  can't  back  out.  The  town  is 
fast  asleep ;  the  snow  is  deep ;  we  '11  make 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      69 

no  noise,  and  those  unfortunates  will  wake 
up  to-morrow  morning  to  find  Christmas 
dinners  on  their  front  doorsteps.  How  do 
you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all.  It 's  simply  idiotic. 
Suppose  we  should  be  found  out  ?  " 

"  But  we  won't;  "  and  the  clergyman  pro- 
ceeded to  prove  with  convincing  earnestness 
not  only  that  discovery  was  improbable,  but 
also  that  it  was  Mr.  Newton's  Christian  duty 
to  go. 

And  then  they  got  to  talking  about  their 
boyhood  days,  —  about  a  certain  Christmas 
Eve,  twenty-five  years  before,  when  the 
youths  of  the  town,  led  by  two  particularly 
mischievous  sinners,  played  sad  tricks  upon 
the  innocent  inhabitants ;  about  the  changes 
that  had  taken  place,  and  the  strange  coinci- 
dence that  had  brought  to  the  church  as  its 
rector  the  man  who,  as  a  boy,  had  rung  the 
bell  on  that  wintry  night.  They  became 
reminiscent  and  —  well,  you  know  that  men 
are  only  boys  of  an  older  growth  —  and  the 
silence  and  the  snow  and  the  novelty  of  it  all 
brought  back  in  living  distinctness  the  rec- 
ollections of  those  days,  and  pretty  soon 
the  two  bachelors  were  as  young  and  as 
frisky  as  they  had  been  a  quarter  of  a 
century  before. 


70      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

At  any  rate,  when  one  o'clock  came  the 
sleigh  emerged  noiselessly  from  the  clergy- 
man's gate.  The  town  was  as  quiet  as 
the  night  itself.  No  sound  of  revelry  com- 
promised its  respectability.  The  clear  stars 
which  looked  brightly  down  saw  nothing 
but  the  universal  whiteness  of  the  streets 
and  the  house-tops,  and  the  two  muffled 
creatures  snugly  ensconced  in  a  loaded 
sleigh. 

The  clergyman  drove.  He  reined  to  the 
right  and  they  were  at  once  on  their  way 
to  the  lower  part  of  the  town,  where  the 
working-people  lived. 

"  What  a  glorious  night ! "  he  said.  "  How 
eloquent  is  the  stillness,  —  the  stillness  of 
sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravelled  edge  of 
care ;  the  precious  oblivion  that  comes  to 
the  two  thousand  souls  in  this  town,  and 
buries  their  sufferings  and  their  sorrows  in 
eight  hours  of  priceless  peace." 

"That  is  very  pretty,"  whispered  Mr. 
Newton  in  return,  "  but  I  'd  like  to  know 
where  you're  going." 

"  We  are  on  our  way  to  the  houses  of  the 
strikers,  down  near  the  mill,"  replied  the 
clergyman. 

"What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Newton,  "those 
people?  You  know  that  those  men  have 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING,      ^l 

stopped  our  work  and  shut  down  our  busi- 
ness, and  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you 
are  spending  my  money  to  help  them  out, 
to  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  about  it,"  he  interrupted. 
"  We  need  n't  discuss  the  strike  here,  but 
twelve  of  those  men  have  families,  and  those 
families  have  nothing  for  a  Christmas  din- 
ner. Back  there  in  the  sleigh  are  twelve 
baskets,  and  those  women  and  children 
are  not  going  hungry  to-morrow  if  we  can 
help  it." 

"  But  —  " 

"  There  are  no  buts  about  it.  This  is 
Christmas.  The  strikers  may  be  wrong, 
but  they  have  nothing ;  you  capitalists  may 
be  right,  but  you  have  more  than  you  need ; 
aud  all  the  right  is  never  on  one  side.  Sup- 
pose you  had  to  discuss  the  matter  on  an 
empty  stomach ;  would  you  feel  merciful 
and  charitable  then  ?  " 

"  Right  is  right,"  interrupted  Mr.  Newton. 

"  And  there  is  no  higher  right  than  the 
right  of  man  to  expect  humane  considera- 
tion from  his  fellow-man,  —  the  right  of  duty 
and  the  right  of  charity.  But  here  is  one 
of  the  houses.  Samuel,  you  must  do  a  gen- 
erous act  by  getting  out  and  putting  one  of 
these  baskets  on  the  front  doorstep." 


72      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

Samuel  was  backward  about  it,  as  a  man 
naturally  would  be  in  his  position ;  but  after 
rapidly  discussing  the  situation  he  agreed  to 
do  his  part,  only  on  the  condition  that  he 
should  not  get  out  where  there  were  any 
dogs;  for  if  there  was  anything  he  feared 
worse  than  death  itself,  it  was  a  dog. 

With  this  agreement,  the  work  began  and 
progressed  with  signal  success.  Mr.  New- 
ton did  his  part,  and  as  house  after  house 
was  visited,  and  his  thoughts  of  the  good 
that  might  be  done  cheered  and  warmed 
his  heart,  he  almost  forgot  the  grief  of  lost 
dividends  and  became  a  Santa  Claus  in  real 
earnest. 

From  these  houses  they  went  to  another 
part  of  the  town.  There  was  in  the  air  an 
exhilaration  that  had  its  full  effect,  and  both 
men  seemed  to  grow  younger  and  livelier 
than  they  had  been  in  twenty  years.  They 
cracked  jokes  in  whispers,  sang  snatches  of 
songs  very  softly,  and  once  or  twice  made 
Bucephalus  speed  along  under  the  mild 
suggestion  of  a  whip. 

Finally  they  made  their  way  to  the  hills 
that  overlooked  the  town.  At  the  top  was 
a  street  which  ended  at  the  gate,  and  this 
gate  led  to  a  house  occupied  by  the  family 
of  Miss  Catherine  Downham.  It  was  a 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      73 

large  residence,  far  back  from  the  street, 
at  the  rear  of  a  long  yard,  and  it  was  inde- 
scribably picturesque  and  beautiful  amid 
the  snow  and  quiet  of  the  early  Christmas 
morning.  Next  to  it  was  another  house, 
almost  a  counterpart  in  size  and  architec- 
ture. In  fact,  Samuel  Newton's  father  had 
built  both  houses,  and  one  of  them  he 
had  sold  to  Mr.  Downham.  The  other  had 
been  occupied  by  the  banker  until  about 
three  months  previously,  when,  tiring  of  the 
loneliness,  he  had  moved  to  quarters  down- 
town. 

"  Now,  Samuel,"  said  the  clergyman, 
"  I  'm  going  to  ask  a  very  great  favor  of 
you.  I  want  you  to  take  that  basket  back 
there  and  put  it  on  the  Downham  porch. 
You  can  do  it  by  going  up  your  own  lane 
and  reaching  over  the  fence.  Of  course  no 
one  will  see  you,  but  if  you  should  be  seen 
you  '11  be  on  your  own  premises,  and  nobody 
can  say  anything ;  and  if  anything  is  said 
about  the  flowers  I  '11  own  up  to  them.  I 
got  out  at  all  the  dog-places  ;  the  Down- 
hams  don't  keep  a  dog,  and  you  will  be 
entirely  safe.  Now,  please  do  this,  Samuel, 
while  I  go  down  to  the  next  street,  where 
I  will  leave  the  last  package.  Then  we  '11 
be  through  and  we  '11  go  home." 


74      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

Samuel  at  first  objected,  but  gradually 
weakened,  and  finally  consented. 

He  made  his  way  to  the  gate  at  the  top  of 
the  hill.  He  looked  down  the  long  stretch 
of  snow-covered  street,  gazed  for  a  moment 
at  the  two  big  houses,  then  carefully  lifted 
the  latch,  opened  the  gate,  and  crept  like  a 
burglar  toward  his  own  house.  When  he 
reached  it,  after  what  seemed  to  him  a 
longer  time  than  he  had  ever  taken  before, 
he  leaned  over  the  fence  and  deposited  the 
basket  on  the  Downham  porch.  Relieved 
of  his  burden  of  fear  he  turned  to  retrace 
his  steps.  He  had  gone  perhaps  twenty 
yards,  and  was  congratulating  himself  on 
his  escape,  when  something  happened.  A 
big  dog,  with  a  bark  that  sounded  like  the 
roar  of  a  lion,  sprang  forth  from  the  shad- 
ows of  the  Downham  yard,  and  with  one 
leap  cleared  the  fence  that  separated  the 
two  properties.  For  a  moment  Mr.  Newton 
was  paralyzed  with  fright,  but  an  instant 
afterward  his  presence  of  mind  returned. 

The  tactics  he  adopted  would  have  done 
credit  to  an  Indian  fighter.  He  got  over  the 
fence  into  the  Downham  yard.  The  dog 
followed.  Thus  it  became  a  contest  of 
fence-jumping  between  the  man  and  the 
animal.  But  as  he  neared  the  gate  he  ap- 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      75 

preciated  the  necessity  of  getting  out  of  that 
neighborhood.  If  discovered,  his  character 
would  be  lost.  So,  resolving  suddenly,  as 
all  great  men  in  emergencies  do,  he  darted 
like  a  frightened  deer  to  the  street,  the  dog 
following  in  noisy  earnestness. 

There  is  sometimes  innate  depravity  in 
inanimate  things,  and  the  results  of  circum- 
stances are  beyond  human  providence.  For 
instance,  the  sled  that  Samuel  Newton  had 
given  the  widow's  son,  James  Stonington, 
should  have  been  anywhere  else  in  the 
world  than  at  the  top  of  a  steep,  slippery 
hill,  for  collision  with  a  respectable  citizen 
at  the  immoral  hour  of  2  A.  M.  But  through 
some  unaccountable  accident  it  was  there, 
and  when  Mr.  Samuel  Newton,  aged  forty 
and  chased  by  a  savage  animal,  rushed  pell- 
mell  athwart  its  path  there  were  calamitous 
consequences.  He  stumbled,  and  in  his 
wildly  desperate  effort  to  catch  an  impos- 
sible equilibrium  he  found  himself  sprawled 
upon  something  that  immediately  began  to 
move.  Before  he  could  roll  off  it  was 
gliding  swiftly  along,  and  before  he  could 
think  of  what  to  do  the  first  steep  dip  of 
the  hill  had  given  it  such  a  momentum  that 
the  barking  dog  was  left  in  the  rear.  The 
poor  victim,  seeing  his  escape  from  the 


76      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

beast,  thought  little  of  what  was  to  happen, 
and  clung  tenaciously  to  the  means  of  his 
deliverance. 

Down  he  went,  like  an  unchecked  train 
on  a  steep  grade,  like  a  comet  shooting 
through  space,  like  a  wild  something  flying 
from  danger  and  not  knowing  how  or  where 
to  stop. 

The  Rev.  Paul  Worthington,  waiting  a 
square  below,  saw  the  apparition  as  it  flew 
by.  He  was  sure  that  he  recognized  the 
figure.  He  called,  but  there  was  no  answer. 
He  turned  to  follow,  and  as  he  did  so  he 
heard  a  crash,  and  a  moment  afterward  dis- 
covered that  an  obstacle  in  the  street  had 
sent  the  sled  to  pieces  against  a  tree  and 
had  rolled  its  passenger  into  a  convenient 
snow-bank.  He  ran  as  quickly  as  he  could 
to  the  spot,  but  before  he  reached  there  the 
banker  was  on  his  feet. 

"  If  you  say  one  word,"  he  almost  hissed, 
as  he  gathered  his  demoralized  overcoat 
about  him,  "  we  '11  have  a  fight  right  here 
and  now.  Take  me  home  !  " 

And  that  was  not  all. 

Thomas,  the  servant,  had  to  rap  three 
times  the  next  morning  before  Mr.  Newton 
answered.  A  little  bundle  and  a  note  were 
handed  to  him. 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.       77 

"Mrs.  Stonington's  boy  brought  them," 
said  Thomas. 

Mr.  Newton  took  the  bundle  and  un- 
wrapped it.  Mystery  of  mysteries  !  It  was 
the  muffler  which  he  had  worn.  With 
feverish  haste  he  tore  open  the  envelope 
and  read  the  note.  As  he  did  so,  his  face 
looked  like  a  battle-ground  of  emotions.  He 
sat  down;  then  he  got  up  and  walked  the 
floor  and  whistled  and  frowned  and  looked 
worried,  surprised,  disappointed,  and  grati- 
fied in  constantly  varying  succession.  Finally 
he  remembered  that  he  was  standing  in  a 
cold  room  without  slippers  or  dressing-gown 
to  protect  him  from  the  pneumonia.  He 
hurried  to  get  both,  and  in  putting  them  on 
recalled  the  fact  that  he  had  a  stiff  neck 
and  a  lot  of  sore  muscles. 

"  There  's  no  fool  like  an  old  fool,"  he 
muttered,  and  then  added,  as  if  in  reckless 
gratification,  "  but  I  don't  care." 

Mr.  Newton  could  move  quickly  when  he 
wanted  to,  and  that  Christmas  morning,  in 
spite  of  his  muscular  stiffness,  he  was  an 
active  man.  Five  minutes  after  he  had 
eaten  his  toast  and  drunk  his  tea  he  was 
busily  at  work,  and  Thomas  was  hurrying 
down  the  street  on  important  missions. 
Within  a  half-hour  the  servant  returned, 


78      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

and  was  again  sent  forth,  this  time  bearing 
a  large  bundle  and  pulling  a  sled. 

An  hour  later  the  Rev.  Paul  Worthington 
walked  in. 

"  How  is  Santa  Glaus  this  morning  ?  "  was 
his  greeting,  "  and  how  are  the  dears  and 
all  the  little  reindeers  ?  " 

The  banker  looked  at  him  solemnly  and 
responded :  — 

"  Did  it  ever  strike  you  that  two  can  play 
at  the  same  game  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  poor  game  when  they  cannot." 

"Well,  this  morning  you  have  sent  the 
best  bunch  of  roses  to  Catherine  Downham 
that  the  hot-house  around  the  corner  could 
furnish." 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you ;  and  on  your  card,  on  the  one 
you  left  here  —  really,  you  should  not  leave 
your  cards  around  so  —  is  this  inscription: 
'  Not  words  but  flowers  shall  express  my 
thoughts  for  you  on  this  most  blessed  day.' 
I  found  it  in  a  novel." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  Read  this.  Her  son  Jimmy  brought  it 
this  morning." 

The  clergyman  took  the  letter  and  read 
as  follows :  — 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.    79 

CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 
DEAREST  SAMUEL,  —  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
delighted  I  was  to  find  the  flowers  you  left  on 
the  porch  last  night,  "  with  all  the  happiness  of 
a  Merry  Christmas."  Do  you  know,  Samuel, 
why  I  hesitated  to  answer  you  the  other  even- 
ing ?  I  —  pardon  the  suspicion  —  I  was  afraid 
that  you  had  crushed  all  sentiment  out  of  your 
life,  and  to  me  life  without  sentiment  would  be 
a  world  without  sunshine.  But  this  morning, 
when  I  received  your  remembrance,  I  was  made 
happier  than  words  can  describe.  You  must 
come  to  dinner  to-day,  to  receive  my  answer. 
And  you  must  also  tell  me  how  you  discovered 
that  I  was  spending  the  night  with  Catherine 
Downham.  I  thought  I  recognized  your  hand- 
writing on  the  card,  even  though  it  was  some- 
what disguised,  but  I  was  not  sure  of  it  until 
James  brought  in  your  scarf,  which  he  found 
out  in  the  yard,  and  which  I  return  with  this. 
I  hope  that  the  dog  did  not  annoy  you.  James 
forgot  to  fasten  it  up  last  night.  It  was  so 
romantic.  With  the  fullest  love, 
Your 

MARGERY. 

The  clergyman  kept  passing  his  hand 
over  his  forehead  as  if  trying  to  solve  it 
all. 

"  It 's  really  extraordinary,"  he  said.  "  I 
didn't  know  she  was  there  —  honestly,  I 


80      IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

did  n't.  Those  flowers  were  for  Miss  Down- 
ham —  you  know  they  were.  I  got  you  to 
write  the  card  so  as  to  tease  her  about  it 

—  seriously,   I    did.      But   what 's  done    is 
done,    and    I    congratulate    you."      Then, 
looking  at  the  note  again,  he  read,  " '  Sen- 
timent ' !     '  dog ' !     '  dinner  ' !     '  romance ' ! 
Superb,  isn't  it,  Samuel?" 

"  Very  fine,"  replied  the  banker,  "  but 
there  has  got  to  be  another  engagement 
before  Christmas  is  passed.  After  you  get 
through  your  morning  sermon  you  had  just 
as  well  go  around  to  see  Catherine  and  do 
your  duty  like  a  man.  The  flowers  are 
there  by  this  time,  and  if  you  try  to  deny 
them  I  '11  break  a  Commandment  and  com- 
promise your  standing  in  this  community. 
You  are  not  going  to  keep  her  single  all  her 
life,  just  to  get  her  money  for  the  heathen 

—  not  while  I  am  her  cousin-in-law  elect." 
Rev.  Paul  Worthington  had  to  hurry  off 

to  church.  As  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  that 
Christmas  morning  he  scarcely  knew  his 
surroundings.  All  he  saw  was  a  young 
woman,  "  divinely  tall  and  most  divinely 
fair,"  with  a  delicate  suffusing  blush  that 
seemed  to  reflect  the  soft  and  glorious 
beauty  of  a  large  bunch  of  roses  which  she 
wore.  Lovelier  than  ever  she  sat  in  the 


IN  THE  EARLY  CHRISTMAS  MORNING.      8l 

corner  of  the  pew,  apparently  as  oblivious 
to  the  small  congregation  as  the  preacher 
himself. 

How  he  struggled  through  the  sermon  he 
never  knew.  What  he  said  he  never  re- 
membered. But  the  events  after  the  ser- 
vice will  be  as  fresh  to  his  dying  day  as  the 
recollection  of  the  bishop,  who  officiated  at 
a  double  wedding  which  crowded  the  church 
to  overflowing  and  reclaimed  two  bachelors 
from  the  evil  of  their  ways. 

Months  afterward,  when  these  two  friends 
sat  talking  it  all  over,  they  were  solemn 
and  philosophical.  Man's  wisdom  is  largely 
man's  conceit,  and  his  success  in  love  or  in 
business  adds  to  both. 

"  A  good  deed,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  is 
the  best  investment  a  person  can  make ;  it 
always  pays  dividends.  Remember  how 
easily  a  strike  was  settled  after  those  Christ- 
mas dinners,  and  how  smoothly  you  have 
gotten  along  since  the  new  year  began." 

"  And  a  foolish  deed,"  said  the  banker, 
"  keeps  coming  back  like  a  counterfeit  coin. 
I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  buy  ten-dollar  sleds 
every  winter;  but,  thank  heaven!  Jimmy 
has  given  up  the  dog !  " 
6 


THE   COLONEL'S  CALL. 

VV  ALK  right  in,  Colonel.  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you." 

"  Suppose  you  close  the  door,  Pendle.  I 
want  to  speak  with  you  privately." 

Pendle  stepped  briskly  to  the  door  and 
closed  it.  His  few  steps  showed  a  swift 
physical  movement  altogether  at  variance 
with  the  serene  composure  of  his  counte- 
nance. If  asked  to  compare  him  with  any 
other  member  of  the  animal  kingdom,  you 
would  have  at  once  suggested  the  panther ; 
but  a  moment  afterward  you  would  have 
said,  "  the  panther —  and  something  more." 
His  face  was  smooth,  firm,  immobile ;  but 
there  was  a  nervousness  in  the  eyes  that 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  see  things  out  of  the 
corners,  and  added  to  a  certain  air  of  expec- 
tancy that  the  panther  has,  there  was  a  cer- 
tain ambitiousness  with  it  all  that  the 
panther  has  n't.  You  would  n't  have  trusted 
him  very  far,  and  you  would  n't  have  liked 


THE  COLONEL'S  CALL.  83 

him  very  much ;  but  you  would  have  had 
more  respect  for  his  personality  than  to 
have  classed  him  with  the  usual  mediocrities 
who  are  in  practical  politics. 

The  other  man  was  older  and  altogether 
different.  He  walked  with  the  aid  of  a  cane, 
and  his  solid  manly  shoulders  and  erect  head 
looked  military.  He  was  tall,  handsome, 
and  grave,  and  his  face  was  of  the  square 
honest  kind,  with  eyes  that  seemed  to  reflect 
a  rugged  old  soul  that  had  known  the  world 
without  having  been  soiled  by  any  of  its 
meanness.  His  voice  fitted  his  appearance. 
It  was  a  conclusive  voice,  and  it  sent  its 
words  straight  to  its  mark. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  office  to  distin- 
guish it,  except,  perhaps,  a  certain  feeling 
that  the  furniture  was  standing  around  in  a 
way  that  made  it  appear  that  it  was  not  alto- 
gether at  home.  There  was  a  large  desk, 
and  behind  this  Pendle  sat  after  his  visitor 
had  found  a  seat  in  the  leather-covered  office- 
chair. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  the  politician. 

"  I  came  to  see  you  in  reference  to  the 
election  in  our  ward,"  said  the  older  man. 
"  Entirely  against  my  wishes  and  commands, 
my  boy  "  —  the  boy  was  thirty-five  —  "  has 
accepted  the  nomination  on  the  reform 


84  THE  COLONEL'S  CALL. 

ticket.  He  did  it  from  conscientious  con- 
sideration of  what  he  conceived  to  be  his 
duty  as  a  citizen,  and  I  honor  him  for  his 
scruples  and  regret  his  judgment.  But,  as 
he  has  taken  the  step,  I  want  to  see  him 
succeed,  and  I  have  therefore  come  to  see 
you  on  my  own  responsibility." 

A  suggestion  of  a  smile  ran  around  Pen- 
die's  mouth  as  he  said,  "  I  would  like  to  aid 
you,  Colonel,  but  you  know  I  am  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fence." 

The  Colonel  apparently  did  not  notice  the 
interruption,  and  went  on :  "  You  have  placed 
against  him  on  your  ticket  a  man  without 
any  character  whatever,  one  of  these  little 
scoundrels  who  rent  out  their  souls  for  a  few 
years  of  cheap  notoriety,  —  a  person  whose 
vote  belongs  to  you,  and  who  is,  therefore, 
of  importance  to  you  personally." 

With  all  his  coolness,  Pendle  flushed.  He 
was  about  to  speak,  but  the  Colonel  con- 
tinued, — 

"  There  are  enough  respectable  votes  in 
that  ward  to  elect  my  son,  —  enough  will  be 
cast  to  elect  him ;  and  the  only  way  to 
defeat  him  is  in  the  manner  which  you 
understand  better  than  I  can  tell  you.  Now 
my  visit  here  is  to  inform  you  that  if  you 
attempt  any  business  of  this  sort,  I  shall 


THE  COLONEL'S  CALL.  85 

be  put  to  the  trouble  of  demanding  a 
settlement." 

Pendle  took  up  a  paper-knife  and  tapped 
it  a  moment  in  his  open  hand.  Then  he 
spoke,  his  flush  having  given  way  to  paleness. 
"  Colonel  Hall,"  he  said,  "  passing  over  the 
indelicacy  of  your  action  in  coming  to  this 
office  and  speaking  as  you  have  done,  I  wish 
you  to  know  that  this  is  a  party  matter,  and 
not  a  personal  matter.  McGurke  was  regu- 
larly nominated  by  the  party,  and  he  will  be 
supported  by  the  resources  of  the  party 
organization.  The  fact  that  I  am  at  the 
head  of  that  party  organization,  regularly 
placed  there,  I  do  not  consider  a  dishonor, 
and  I  certainly  shall  not  be  recreant  to  the 
trust  that  has  been  confided  in  me." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  discuss  evasions 
or  organizations  or  glittering  generalities ;  I 
came  to  talk  to  you."  And  the  Colonel 
raised  his  finger,  and  slowly  pointed  it  at 
Pendle  as  he  emphasized  the  word.  "  I 
know  you,  perhaps,  better  than  you  know 
yourself.  You  have  succeeded  wonderfully 
well  in  this  city,  because  you  have  ability  — 
very  great  ability."  Pendle  bowed  slightly, 
and  the  Colonel  resumed  :  "  Yes,  very  great 
ability,  as  a  shrewd,  exhaustless,  persistent 
manipulator.  I  admire  it  in  you,  because 
it 's  your  sole  stock  in  trade." 


86  THE  COLONEL'S  CALL. 

"  Colonel  Hall,"  began  Pendle. 

"  Sit  still,  Pendle,  and  let  me  do  the  talk- 
ing. You  will  perhaps  recall  a  few  incidents 
from  the  past.  If  your  memory  is  good,  you 
will  recollect  that  you  hung  around  my  com- 
mand for  awhile,  and  that  your  victories 
were  confined  exclusively  to  the  commissary 
department.  You  were  a  coward  then,  and 
you  are  a  coward  now,  and  the  only  reason 
that  you  and  your  gang  boss  and  rob  this 
town  as  you  do  is  that  the  people  are  bigger 
cowards  than  you  are.  Some  day  they  will 
wake  up  to  their  duty,  and  will  wonder  why 
they  stood  you  so  long;  but  in  the  mean 
while  you  are  piling  up  wealth  that  does  not 
belong  to  you,  and  are  getting  the  impression 
that  you  are  invincible." 

"  Colonel  Hall,  I  wish  you  to  understand 
that  I  will  not  be  insulted  in  my  own  office  !  " 
exclaimed  the  cool  man,  losing  his  coolness. 

"It's  not  insult,  Pendle;  it's  truth.  For 
five  hard  years  I  did  some  fighting  to  help 
save  the  institutions  which  you  are  disgrac- 
ing, and  I  have  the  right  to  speak  my  mind. 
I  am  not  the  sort  of  person  to  go  into  politics 
and  make  speeches  and  get  cheated  out  of 
my  rights,  because  I  despise  its  tricks  and  its 
lies  and  its  lowness.  I  prefer  to  deal  with 
you  direct,  and  that  is  why  I  came.  You 


THE  COLONEL'S  CALL.  87 

will,  therefore,  understand  that  if  you  send 
any  of  your  gang  of  repeaters  or  bribers  or 
scoundrels  up  in  our  ward  to  count  in  Mc- 
Gurke,  you  will  be  obliged  to  answer  to  me 
personally ;  and,  old  as  I  am,  I  will  give  you 
a  thrashing  that  will  make  up  not  only  for 
the  present,  but  also  for  some  of  those  dere- 
lictions of  the  sixties.  That  is  all,  Pendle, 
and  I  will  say  good-morning." 

Pendle  did  not  reply.  The  colonel  arose 
and  with  head  and  shoulders  erect  marched 
out  of  the  room.  His  big  cane  seemed  to 
hit  the  floor  with  an  increased  force  and 
he  passed  down  the  steps  and  on  up  the 
street  with  some  of  the  same  martial  vigor 
of  the  days  when  he  led  his  boys  to  the 
front  of  the  fight. 

Pendle  had  picked  up  a  cigar  which  he 
failed  to  light  and  he  chewed  it  more  sav- 
agely than  usual.  Then  he  threw  his  head 
back  and  looked  steadily  at  the  ceiling. 
Finally  he  moved  forward  and  tapped  a 
bell.  The  clerk  entered  as  quietly  and  as 
humbly  as  if  in  the  presence  of  majesty 
itself. 

"  Go  find  Roster  and  tell  him  to  come 
here  at  once.  He 's  probably  at  McCuddy's 
in  the  back  part  of  the  saloon." 

Within  twenty  minutes  Roster  appeared. 


88  THE  COLONEL'S  CALL. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Pendle.  "  I  have  been 
looking  over  the  city  again,  and  I  have 
decided  to  let  Andy  McGurke  take  care 
of  himself.  Save  your  crowd  for  the  next 
ward  to  help  Stine." 

"  But  say,"  interrupted  Roster,  "  if  we 
don't  give  McGurke  a  boost  he  won't  be 
in  it." 

"  McGurke  must  look  out  for  himself," 
said  the  boss,  decisively.  "  We  Ve  done 
enough  for  him  already,  and  if  he  kicks 
we  '11  see  that  the  saloons  he  owns  don't 
get  licenses.  But  look  here,  Roster,  keep 
all  this  mum  until  McGurke  pays  his 
assessment." 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  heeler,  meekly ; 
"  but  it 's tough  on  Andy." 

When  he  went  out  Pendle  took  a  walk 
around  the  room.  Finally  he  paused  at  a 
window,  and  as  he  looked  out  on  the  perfect 
October  day  he  said,  with  something  of  a 
smile,  — 

"  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  if  there  were 
more  Colonel  Halls  in  this  town,  there  would 
be  a  great  deal  less  of  Pendle." 


THE   NOMINATION. 

DAVID  GAD  and  his  good  wife  Ruth 
were  sitting  in  the  easy  chairs  resting  after 
the  day's  work.  He  had  closed  the  store  at 
nine  o'clock.  It  was  a  little  cool  for  Septem- 
ber and  the  windows  were  down.  The  light 
was  turned  low,  for  David  and  Ruth  were 
economical,  even  in  the  matter  of  coal  oil. 

People  said  that  David  was  a  born  success. 
They  could  not  understand  sometimes  how 
it  was  so,  because  his  father  never  had  the 
gift,  but  they  were  not  able  to  deny  facts, 
which  facts  were  that  David  was  making 
money  and  was  enjoying  a  solid  reputation 
among  his  neighbors.  When  he  started  out 
most  of  them  laughed  at  him ;  but  the  ones 
who  laughed  loudest  now  generally  loafed 
the  longest  around  his  store.  His  marriage 
to  Ruth  Bland,  daughter  of  old  Jonathan 
Bland,  helped  him  along. 

Ruth  was  as  practical  in  her  ways  as 
David,  and  such  a  useless  expense  of  time 


90  THE   NOMINATION. 

and  money  as  a  wedding  journey  did  not 
enter  their  thoughts.  They  went  at  once  to 
their  little  home.  David's  old  friend,  John, 
was  with  them  as  clerk,  and  a  very  good  one 
he  was.  Ten  years  went  by  and  made  David 
a  rugged,  substantial  man.  As  he  sat  in  the 
big  rocker  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  a 
person  of  more  than  ordinary  force.  He  was 
one  of  the  Americans  who  succeed,  a  man  of 
more  mental  activity  than  speech,  a  cautious, 
shrewd,  far-seeing  man, —  at  least  this  was 
Colonel  Short's  description,  and  he,  being  a 
politician,  was  a  good  judge  of  men  or  he 
would  not  have  been  a  successful  politician. 

"  David,"  said  Ruth,  "  what  is  this  talk 
about  you  and  the  sheriff's  office  ?  " 

He  looked  up  quickly  and  shifted  his  posi- 
tion before  replying.  "  Where  did  you  hear 
that  nonsense  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  All  the  folks  are  talking  about  it.  I 
heard  some  men  discussing  it  while  you  were 
out  of  the  store  to-day,  and  saying  that 
Colonel  Short  had  been  to  see  you  about  it. 
The  people  seem  to  think  you  '11  make  a 
mighty  good  man  for  the  place." 

David  smiled  in  a  sober  kind  of  way,  and 
nursed  his  knees  with  his  two  hands.  Pres- 
ently he  looked  up,  and  said  :  "  Ruth,  a  man 
of  convictions  should  take  an  interest  in 


THE   NOMINATION.  91 

politics  for  the  good  of  the  party  which 
represents  his  principles,  and  not  for  any 
ambition  which  merely  represents  his  own 
pride.  I  have  voted  the  ticket  and  done 
some  work  for  it,  not  with  the  hope  of  any 
office,  but  because  my  conscience  and  my 
judgment  dictated  that  course.  If  people 
misconstrue  my  motives,  it  is  very  wrong." 

"  But,  David,  if  they  should  give  you  the 
office  —  " 

"Yes,  if  they  should  give  me  an  office, 
what  then?  Four  years  of  laziness,  and 
afterward  a  return  home  to  find  our  business 
all  gone,  or  taken  up  by  some  one  else.  No, 
Ruth,  you  and  I  have  had  too  hard  a  time 
building  up  this  trade  to  have  it  ruined  by 
politics.  Let  us  keep  on  in  our  course,  for 
we  know  not  what  a  change  might  bring 
forth." 

Ruth  was  silent  for  a  while.  The  mention 
of  the  possible  honor  had  aroused  a  quiet 
but  unexpressed  ambition  for  town  life,  had 
suggested  the  possibility  of  some  of  that 
change  which  every  woman  from  Eve  down 
has  always  secretly  longed  for.  But  David's 
practical  words  had  brought  out  her  common- 
sense,  and  shoved  the  ambition  back  into  the 
closet  of  her  heart.  She  closed  the  door 
upon  it  and  sighed. 


92  THE   NOMINATION. 

"  I  guess  you  're  right.  You  'most  always 
are.  But  who  do  you  think  they  '11  take  in 
your  place?" 

"  I  am  for  Major  Powderdry,"  said  David, 
with  considerable  emphasis. 

Mrs.  Gad  was  greatly  astonished.  "  Major 
Powderdry !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  good- 
ness gracious,  David  !  he  has  n't  done  a  thing 
in  his  life  except  to  run  for  office  and  run  into 
debt." 

"That's  just  it,  Ruth.  The  good  Lord 
has  laid  out  for  us  certain  duties  in  this 
world.  A  man  may  sometimes  get  away 
from  his  path,  and  wander  over  the  field ; 
but  he  always  has  a  kind  of  an  idea  of  what 
he  is  living  for,  and  he  is  pretty  apt  to  hit 
the  road  while  he  is  tramping  around.  Now 
Major  Powderdry's  business  is  running  for 
office.  It  don't  pay  much,  but  he  sticks  to 
it.  Mine  is  running  a  store.  I  've  got  along 
all  right  in  the  store,  because  the  people  have 
encouraged  me.  What  the  major  wants  is 
more  encouragement.  So  let  him  have  it,  I 
say,  and  let  us  all  elect  him.  Then,  too  — 
but  of  course  you  need  n't  mention  it  —  if  he 
gets  through,  he  may  pay  us  that  little  bill 
he  owes  us." 

"  Well,  David,  you  certainly  look  at  things 
with  both  eyes,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  decision 


THE   NOMINATION.  93 

that  had  in  it  a  small  undertone  of  admi- 
ration. 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Ruth,  and  when  they  fail  to 
see  what 's  what,  I  know  two  other  eyes  that 
are  mighty  pert  about  finding  the  right  side." 

Ruth  smiled,  and  felt  quite  happy.  It 
was  n't  often  that  they  paid  compliments  to 
each  other. 

"  Ruth,"  said  David,  after  a  pause,  "  if  the 
folks  talk  any  more  to  you  about  me,  just 
say  that  David  is  too  busy  attending  to  the 
store  to  go  running  across  the  whole  county 
for  an  office,  and  that  he  votes  the  ticket  for 
his  convictions  and  not  for  rewards,  and  that 
he  has  said  that  Major  Powderdry  would 
make  a  good  man  for  the  place.  Don't  go 
out  of  your  way  to  say  this,  but  if  anybody 
makes  you  talk,  why,  just  put  it  to  'em 
straight  and  earnest  like;  if  you  want  to, 
you  might  add  something  about  your  not 
caring  for  me  to  give  up  a  good  business  for 
any  such  foolishness,  and  so  forth  and  so 
forth." 

Ruth  said  she  would,  and  as  ten  o'clock 
had  arrived,  they  locked  up  the  house  and 
went  to  bed.  But  before  going  to  sleep 
David  added,  "  And,  Ruth,  you  might  say 
that  the  talk  Colonel  Short  and  I  had  was 
on  private  business." 


94  THE   NOMINATION. 

It  did  not  require  an  age  for  anything  to 
get  over  the  district.  News  was  scarce  in 
Sussex. 

Somebody  had  mentioned  David  Gad's 
name  for  the  shrievalty.  It  met  with  favor. 
It  was  time  the  district  was  getting  the  office. 
David  was  a  good  party  man,  a  reliable,  con- 
servative citizen,  and  a  neighbor  who  was 
popular.  The  people  talked  quietly  at  first, 
but  after  it  was  known  that  David  and 
Colonel  Short  had  had  a  long  talk,  the  dis- 
cussion took  a  wider  range.  As  it  became 
more  public  it  aroused  a  factional  opposi- 
tion, led  by  the  voluble  and  oratorical  Major 
Powderdry,  a  talkative  upholder  of  party 
principles,  and  an  inveterate  seeker  for  a 
place  on  the  ticket.  David  Gad  said  nothing, 
and  attended  to  business. 

The  day  after  their  little  talk,  Ruth  left 
David  at  the  store,  and  made  a  few  visits. 
The  matter  of  the  office  came  up  for  discus- 
sion everywhere  she  went.  She  was  not 
slow  in  making  prompt  and  decidedly  em- 
phatic comments. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  have  heard  that  they 
are  talking  about  David;  but  I  reckon  it's 
a  lot  of  breath  wasted.  He  's  been  a-work- 
ing  going  on  ten  years  building  up  his  store, 
and  he  ain't  such  a  goose  as  to  throw  away 


THE   NOMINATION.  95 

his  business  for  an  office.  That  talk  he  had 
with  Colonel  Short  was  about  a  private 
matter.  There  ain't  much  money  in  poli- 
tics, and  as  for  our  part,  we  'd  rather  have 
what  we  've  got  than  go  to  trying  a  change. 
David  don't  vote  the  ticket  expecting  to  be 
paid  for  it ;  he 's  not  that  kind.  As  far  as 
I  'm  concerned,  I  'm  glad  of  it,  for  it 's  not 
everywhere  you  can  get  good  neighbors. 
What 's  more,  David 's  looked  upon  as  a 
good  man  now,  while  if  he  was  to  go  into 
politics,  goodness  only  knows  what  they  'd 
say  against  him.  And  David  ain't  one  that 
takes  such  things  easy.  He  told  me  no  later 
than  last  night  that  he  was  in  favor  of  Major 
Powderdry.  '  If  our  district  is  to  have  it,' 
said  he, '  why,  give  it  to  Major  Powderdry.'  " 

The  good  wives  that  good  wife  Ruth  talked 
to  in  the  afternoon  told  it  to  their  good  hus- 
bands at  supper,  and  before  bedtime  it  was 
generally  known  that  David  Gad  was  for 
Major  Powderdry. 

The  major  heard  it  at  first  with  incredul- 
ity, and  then  with  joy.  He  knew  David 
Gad's  endorsement  would  have  great  weight 
with  the  people.  "  I  have  always  liked 
David,"  he  said.  "  He  is  a  man  of  business, 
a  man  of  honor,  and  a  credit  to  this  neigh- 
borhood. I  have  watched  him  since  he  was 


90  THE   NOMINATION. 

a  boy,  and  each  year  has  increased  my  good 
opinion  of  him.  When  the  people  talked 
about  his  name  I  opposed  it,  because  I  knew 
that  it  would  only  bother  him." 

The  major  talked  in  this  strain  so  as  to 
ease  his  conscience  and  convince  himself  of 
what  he  never  believed.  That  was  a  pecu- 
liarity of  his  oratory  as  well  as  of  his  con- 
versation. He  could  talk  himself  into  any 
belief,  while  the  cold  and  listless  crowd 
stood  by  and  doubted. 

The  next  day  he  dropped  in  at  the  cross- 
roads store.  He  found  Mr.  Gad  in  an  un- 
employed interval,  and  took  possession  of  it 
with  voluble  but  diplomatic  promptness. 
He  complimented  the  weather,  the  store  and 
David,  and  asked,  with  solicitous  earnest- 
ness, for  the  health  of  Mrs.  Gad,  and  then 
plunged  boldly  into  the  purpose  of  his  call. 

"  I  hear,"  said  he,  lowering  his  voice, 
"  that  you  have  stated  that  you  will  endorse 
me  for  sheriff." 

David  took  it  in  a  matter-of-fact  way, 
although  he  secretly  enjoyed  the  major's 
polite  circumlocution. 

"  Yes,  major,"  he  said,  with  business  blunt- 
ness  ;  "  I  'm  for  you.  You  ought  to  have 
it.  This  district  ought  to  have  it.  And  the 
way  for  us  to  get  it  is  to  get  it." 


THE   NOMINATION.  97 

This  roused  the  major's  oratory.  "Well 
said,  Mr.  Gad,  nobly  said.  In  the  distribu- 
tion of  the  legitimate  rewards  of  the  party, 
the  just  and  equitable  deserts  of  noble  old 
Sussex  have  not  been  recognized.  It  will 
be  a  proud  privilege  for  me  to  lead  in  the 
demand  for  this  recognition,  and  I  ask  you, 
sir,  that  you  will  allow  your  name  to  be  used 
on  the  delegation  to  the  convention  —  as  the 
head  of  that  delegation,  sir  ? " 

The  major  said  this  with  great  personal 
applause,  and  David  seemed  very  much 
impressed  by  it.  But  the  merchant  was 
doubtful.  He  rubbed  his  chin  in  a  medita- 
tive way,  and  took  some  time  to  respond. 

"  Now,  major,  I  want  to  keep  out  of 
politics." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Mr.  Gad.  It  is  upon 
such  men  as  you  —  upon  the  yeomanry  of 
the  party,  if  I  may  say  so  —  that  the  selec- 
tion of  good  standard-bearers  and  the  per- 
petuity of  free  institutions  must  depend. 
You  owe  it  to  your  district,  sir,  to  be  a 
member  of  that  convention." 

David  paused  again ;  he  paused  so  long 
that  the  major  walked  back  and  forth 
uneasily. 

"  Well,  since  you  put  it  in  that  way,  of 
course  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  think  about  it," 
7 


y°  THE   NOMINATION. 

said  the  Sphynx  at  last.  "  But  arrange  it 
as  quietly  as  you  can." 

A  light  of  joy  illuminated  the  face  of 
Major  Powderdry.  He  grasped  Mr.  Gad's 
hand  and  thanked  him,  not  once,  but  count- 
less times.  Presently  the  emotional  equilib- 
rium was  restored,  and  David  announced 
that  the  next  day  he  was  going  to  start 
through  the  county  on  a  business  trip.  He 
had  the  agency  for  a  new  machine,  and  he 
had  been  directed  to  place  its  sale  in  differ- 
ent stores  of  that  territory.  "  I  '11  see  how 
things  look  in  politics,  and  put  in  as  many 
good  words  for  you  as  I  can." 

The  interview  was  brought  to  an  end  by 
the  entrance  of  a  family  party  in  search  of 
shoes  and  molasses.  Major  Powderdry 
went  home  with  a  happy  heart.  He  was 
already  beginning  to  enjoy  the  office  and 
its  perquisites  —  the  perquisites  mainly. 

Mr.  Gad's  business  trip  occupied  three 
days.  He  enjoyed  it.  Being  well-known 
and  well-esteemed,  it  was  agreeable  to  meet 
people  and  talk  with  them.  Besides,  he  sold 
more  machines  than  he  expected.  When 
he  arrived  home  the  delegation  had  been 
agreed  upon,  and  he  had  been  placed  at  the 
head  of  it  by  the  unanimous  desire  of  his 
colleagues. 


THE   NOMINATION.  99 

He  reached  the  store  just  before  twilight, 
and  he  had  scarcely  finished  his  supper 
before  Major  Hamilton  Powderdry  called. 
The  major  was  more  than  anxious  to  hear 
the  results  of  the  journey. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  back,  Mr.  Gad  — 
very  glad ;  and  I  hope  you  are  the  messen- 
ger of  good  news." 

"  Well,  yes,  major ;  I  did  remarkably  well 
with  the  machines,  —  a  great  deal  better 
than  I  expected." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  sir  —  I  congratulate 
you  most  sincerely.  How  did  you  find  the 
political  complexion  ?  Was  it  favorable  ?  " 

"  Oh,  politics  ?  Oh,  yes  !  So  I  remem- 
ber. Of  course,  major,  I  was  mainly  on 
business,  but  in  the  demands  of  that  busi- 
ness I  did  not  forget  you.  I  did  not  forget 
our  district." 

The  major  rubbed  his  hands  and  smiled. 
"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Gad  —  thank  you.  What 
—  what  did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  better  give  you  an  item- 
ized account,  —  a  bill  of  particulars,  so  to 
speak." 

The  major  was  greatly  pleased. 

"  First,  I  went  to  Forktown.  I  found  that 
they  are  going  to  send  a  solid  delegation 
down  for  Boggs.  They  were  quite  earnest 


100  THE   NOMINATION. 

about  it;  said  that  their  district  ought  to 
have  the  nomination,  and  that  Colonel  Short 
had  half  promised  it  to  them,  and  that  they 
were  going  in  to  win.  Of  course  it  was  n't 
much  use  to  talk  against  such  feeling  as  that, 
although  I  did  tell  them  that  in  Major  Pow- 
derdry,  Sussex  had  a  candidate  that  she  was 
proud  of." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Gad,  thank  you.  We  '11 
soon  down  Boggs.  Their  talk  about  Short's 
support  is  nothing  but  a  bluff.  How  about 
Bethel?" 

"  Well,  Bethel 's  got  the  fever  too.  They 
say  they  hain't  had  the  sheriff  for  twenty 
years,  and  that  they  are  going  to  pull  for  it 
this  time,  or  break  the  traces.  They  're  put- 
ting up  young  Jones,  and  he 's  working  like 
a  beaver.  I  slipped  in  a  few  words  for  you, 
major,  but  they  brought  up  the  argument 
that  Sussex  had  it  sixteen  years  ago,  while 
it's  been  twenty  years  since  it  went  to 
Bethel." 

The  major  uncrossed  his  legs,  and  nodded 
his  head.  "  That 's  all  right,"  said  he.  "  I 
know  Jones.  He's  active,  but  that's  all. 
We  '11  circumvent  him." 

"  From  Bethel  I  went  on  down  to  Draw- 
bridge and  Forks.  They  are  not  far  apart, 
you  know.  I  found  out  that  they  had 


THE   NOMINATION.  IOI 

nobody  in  particular  that  they  wanted,  but 
Jones  had  sent  down  some  missionaries  and 
captured  Drawbridge,  and  Boggs'  men  were 
at  work  at  Forks.  There  is  where  I  did 
some  talking.  I  told  them  of  our  demands, 
of  our  candidate,  of  you,  major,  and  your 
long  service  to  the  party.  I  said :  '  Gentle- 
men, here  is  a  fine  man  and  an  esteemed 
citizen,  who  has  sacrificed  time  and  effort  in 
campaign  work,  who  has  fought  in  the  front 
ranks,  who  has  never  flagged  or  proven 
recreant  to  his  duty.  He  is  the  man  we 
offer  you,  and  we  ask  that  you  help  us  to 
nominate  him.' " 

"  Thank  you  —  thank  you  !  Did  you  con- 
vince them  of  the  wisdom  of  that  course  ?  " 

"  Not  quite.  They  would  n't  commit  them- 
selves. So,  to  keep  them  from  going  to 
Boggs  or  Jones,  I  persuaded  them  to  put  up 
their  own  candidate.  '  If  it 's  to  be  a  grab 
game,'  I  said,  '  why  don't  you  take  a  hand  ? ' 
Then  I  left,  and  went  on  down  to  the  lower 
districts,  where  they  don't  care  who  gets  the 
nomination,  for  the  good  and  sufficient  rea- 
son that  they  have  had  it  for  the  last  three 
times.  However,  I  came  back  by  Draw- 
bridge and  Forks  to-day,  and  I  found  that 
they  had  put  up  their  men,  Hanson  for 
Drawbridge  and  Withers  for  Forks." 


102  THE   NOMINATION. 

The  major's  bright  face  seemed  clouded. 
"Do  you  think,"  he  asked,  "that  it  was 
wise  to  bring  two  more  men  into  the  field  ? 
Won't  it  complicate  matters  ?  " 

"  Well,  major,  I  'm  a  business  man,  and  I 
look  at  it  in  a  business  way.  I  argued  that 
if  those  two  districts  were  disposed  to  go 
against  us,  the  best  way  would  be  to  make 
them  fight  each  other  as  well  as  ourselves. 
It  takes  them  away  from  Boggs  and  Jones. 
Now  we  have  eight  districts,  and  no  nomi- 
nation can  be  made  until  one  of  the  five 
breaks  to  some  other  candidate.  You  stand 
well,  major,  and  your  genius  must  make  a 
combination  and  win.  You  can  do  it,  can't 
you  ?  " 

When  the  major  saw  it  in  that  light  he 
was  radiant.  "  Why,  David,"  he  exclaimed, 
growing  more  familiar,  "you  are  a  Napoleon 
of  politics.  It's  a  great  arrangement.  I 
know  Hanson  and  I  know  Withers.  I  '11 
see  them ;  I  '11  deal  with  them ;  and  when 
the  convention  opens,  we  '11  give  Boggs  and 
Jones  the  biggest  surprise  party  they  ever 
saw." 

This  was  Saturday.  The  convention  met 
on  the  following  Tuesday.  The  interval 
was  fully  employed.  Everybody  talked  poli- 
tics. The  major  led.  He  was  exhaustless. 


THE  NOMINATION.  IO3 

Hope  beamed  on  his  smiling  countenance 
like  sunshine  on  a  morning-glory. 

"  Well,  I  never  saw  such  a  sight  in  all 
my  born  days,"  said  Mrs.  Gad.  "  The  major 
acts  as  if  he  'd  been  elected  and  got  all  the 
offices  in  the  State." 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  "  the  major  is  enthu- 
siastic. He  has  a  sanguine  temperament." 

"He  used  to  talk  against  you  so.  Now 
he 's  praising  you  to  the  skies.  There  ain't 
any  word  too  high  or  too  big  for  you.  It 's 
a  strange  thing,  this  politics." 

"Very  strange, — very  strange,"  replied 
David,  nodding  his  head.  "  It  shows  the 
changeableness  of  human  nature,  Ruth,  the 
instability  of  character.  If  I  had  run  for 
this  office  in  an  open  way,  as  the  folks 
wanted  me  to,  the  major  would  have  been 
going  around  abusing  me  and  getting  up  his 
movements  against  me,  and  I  guess  he  'd 
come  near  downing  me.  But  now  I  am  one 
of  his  delegates,  and  he  is  as  sweet  as  a 
hogshead  of  molasses.  How  much  better  it 
is,  Ruth,  to  have  the  friendship  of  every- 
body, even  though  we  have  to  put  ambition 
aside ! " 

The  delegates  from  Sussex  met  at  the 
cross-roads  and  started  to  town  bright  and 
early.  David  accepted  his  importance  as 


104  THE  NOMINATION. 

the  head  member  of  the  delegation  modestly. 
Major  Powderdry  was  gorgeous  in  a  new 
high  hat  and  an  enlarged  vocabulary. 

"  David,"  he  said,  with  confidential  earn- 
estness, "you  hold  the  delegates  solid.  I'm 
an  old  hand  at  this  business,  you  know,  and 
if  you  stick  together  while  I  do  the  work 
and  pull  the  wires,  we  '11  win  as  sure  as  the 
sun  will  shine." 

"  That's  it,  major,"  he  answered.  "  We  '11 
depend  on  you.  I  was  never  in  a  convention 
but  twice  before,  you  know,  and  both  times 
they  had  the  ticket  made  out,  and  all  we  had 
to  do  was  to  vote  it  through.  This  business 
is  a  little  new  to  us,  and  I  guess  it  '11  be  a 
heap  more  exciting.  Just  let  me  say  one 
word :  don't  let  'em  bully  you.  Stick  right 
up  to  it,  and  stay  in  the  field  as  long  as  you 
can." 

This  warning  aroused  the  major's  latent 
pugnacity.  "  David,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  in  this 
fight  to  win,  and  I  '11  stay  at  the  front  till  the 
battle  is  over  and  the  cows  come  home." 

So,  with  discussion  and  warning,  and  ad- 
vice and  suggestion  the  delegates  proceeded. 
The  temperature  of  their  determination  rose 
steadily,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  town 
they  were  ready  to  march  into  the  conven- 
tion and  demand  the  nomination  for  sheriff 
as  the  right  of  Sussex  District. 


THE   NOMINATION.  105 

But  they  ran  into  other  determined  bands. 
With  the  other  four  candidates  in  the  field 
the  situation  was  lively.  The  advocates  of 
each  man  were  importunate  and  vociferous. 
Into  the  arena  the  statesmen  from  Sussex, 
led  by  the  intrepid  Powderdry,  advanced 
with  argument  and  inquiry. 

The  Quantico  County  court-house,  where 
the  convention  met,  was  a  sombre  building 
of  brick,  fronted  by  a  large  square.  Out- 
doors and  in-doors  the  groups  were  discuss- 
ing and  canvassing.  Opposite  the  square 
was  the  law  office  of  Colonel  Short.  To 
and  from  that  place  flowed  steady  streams 
of  delegates.  Colonel  Short  was  the  county 
leader  —  the  "  boss."  Some  came  from  his 
office  in  smiles,  some  in  frowns,  and  some  in 
doubt. 

David  was  button-holing  a  man  from  a 
lower  district  when  the  major  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder. 

"  I  've  been  to  see  Short,"  whispered  he, 
"  I  talked  plainly  to  him,  as  a  man  with  my 
strength  should.  I  told  him  I  had  the  united 
support  of  Sussex  District,  and  that  our  dis- 
trict was  entitled  to  the  nomination.  '  You  're 
probably  right,  major,'  said  he ;  '  but  there 
are  four  other  gentlemen  from  four  other 
districts  who  say  the  same  thing,  and  I  don't 


106  THE   NOMINATION. 

see  how  we  're  going  to  settle  it  except  by 
fighting  it  out.  Whoever  wins,  we  '11  get  a 
good  sheriff,  and  I  wish  you  luck  ! '  Now, 
David,  what  is  there  in  that?  It  looks 
stormy.  Do  you  think  we  '11  get  through  ?  " 

"  Well,  major,  we  're  doing  all  we  can,  and 
trusting  to  you  to  uphold  the  rights  of  our 
district." 

The  major's  backbone  stiffened,  and  he 
proceeded  a  second  time  to  work.  He  saw 
everybody,  made  a  hundred  indefinite  prom- 
ises, and  attempted  every  coalition  that  a 
man  of  twenty-five  years  of  political  failure 
could  invent. 

He  was  still  at  it  when  the  hour  for  the 
assembling  of  the  convention  arrived.  The 
delegates  were  in  their  seats,  too  much  im- 
pressed by  their  importance  to  say  much. 
The  crowds  struggled  in  and  filled  the 
benches  of  the  court-room.  A  buzz  of  spec- 
ulation and  expectation  arose  to  the  ceiling 
and  resounded  between  the  walls.  Occa- 
sionally a  laugh  interrupted  the  monotonous 
hum,  or  a  pompous  citizen  came  in,  and 
talked  loud  enough  to  make  himself  heard 
above  the  noise. 

A  clapping  of  hands  and  a  few  thuds  of 
heavy  boots  on  the  floor  announced  the 
approach  of  the  chairman  of  the  County 


THE   NOMINATION.  IO7 

Committee.  He  mounted  the  rostrum, 
called  the  body  to  order,  and  said  a  few 
words  which  resulted  in  more  clapping  of 
hands  and  more  boot  thuds.  With  one  or 
two  soaring  exploits  in  oratory,  the  election 
of  the  officers  of  the  convention,  the  appoint- 
ment of  the  committees,  and  the  necessary 
preliminaries  were  arranged. 

There  was  a  recess  for  dinner.  The  inter- 
val was  a  time  of  heroic  effort  on  the  part  of 
Major  Powderdry  and  his  competitors;  but 
the  more  they  worked  the  greater  their  doubt 
grew. 

"  David,"  whispered  the  major  again, 
rather  more  agitated  than  before,  "  I  'm 
afraid  it 's  a  case  of  every  man  standing 
pat,  and  staying  in  till  the  light  goes  out." 

David  did  not  exactly  grasp  the  simile, 
but  he  told  the  major  to  remain  firm. 

The  session  opened.  There  were  more 
speeches  and  more  enthusiasm,  and  then 
the  real  work  began.  There  was  not  much 
delay  in  the  first  nominations,  but  when 
the  sheriff  was  reached  a  general  movement 
seized  the  delegates  and  the  on-lookers. 
They  expected  something  worth  seeing. 
But  just  as  they  got  fixed  for  the  excite- 
ment, a  delegate  arose  and  moved  that  the 
nomination  for  sheriff  be  postponed  until 


108  THE   NOMINATION. 

the  rest  of  the  ticket  was  agreed  upon. 
This  caused  a  little  fight,  but  it  ended  in 
the  desired  postponement. 

In  an  hour's  time  the  ticket  was  complete 
with  the  exception  of  the  sheriff.  That 
contest  opened  with  great  earnestness.  For 
the  purpose  of  saving  time  the  nomination 
speeches  were  brief  and  formal. 

The  voting  began.  Five  districts  had 
their  candidates.  The  three  other  dis- 
tricts distributed  their  votes  with  impartial 
favor.  Ballot  after  ballot  was  cast  without 
an  approach  to  a  result.  The  feeling  be- 
came intensified.  Two  hours  went  by,  and 
still  there  was  no  nomination.  The  districts 
were  sticking  to  their  men,  and  a  nomination 
was  impossible  unless  one  of  them  broke. 
Supper-time  drew  near.  Some  delegates 
began  to  get  hungry.  All  wanted  to  go 
home.  But  their  earnestness  triumphed 
over  appetite.  A  new  ballot  disclosed  no 
change.  Major  Powderdry's  hopefulness 
was  oozing  out,  but  he  was  sticking  like 
grim  death.  Suddenly  some  one  whispered 
in  his  ear,  "  Major,  Colonel  Short  wants  to 
see  you  in  the  jury-room." 

A  great  hope  surged  through  the  major's 
soul,  and  he  tiptoed  to  the  door,  and  in  a 
minute  was  in  the  presence  of  the  party 
dictator. 


THE   NOMINATION.  IOQ 

"  Major,"  said  the  colonel,  "  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Stick,"  he  answered. 

"  Listen  to  me  a  minute.  We  Ve  got  a 
good  ticket,  and  we  've  got  a  tough  fight 
ahead.  You  five  men  in  there  are  getting 
so  hot  against  one  another  that  not  one  of 
you  can  possibly  win.  You  can't ;  they  can't. 
Now,  why  not  name  the  man  ?  " 

"  Who  ? " 

"  Who  is  your  choice  ?  " 

"  David  Gad  would  be  a  good  man,  but — " 

"  Well  ? " 

"  He  won't  take  it." 

"  Get  him  out  of  the  room,  and  give  us 
time  to  nominate  him,  and  he'll  have  to 
take  it." 

The  major  saw  the  situation.  He  paused. 
He  considered.  He  could  not  be  nomina- 
ted, —  why  not  nominate  ?  He  could  not 
be  Edmond,  —  why  not  Warwick  ?  Colonel 
Short  argued.  The  major  decided.  He 
would  do  it.  Rushing  to  the  court-room  he 
got  David  Gad  and  brought  him  to  Short. 
Then  telling  him  to  stay  there  till  called, 
he  rushed  back.  Everybody  left  the  jury- 
room  to  watch  the  convention,  except  Short 
and  Gad.  At  the  furthest  window  they  whis- 
pered earnestly. 


110  THE   NOMINATION. 

A  new  ballot  was  about  to  begin,  when, 
at  the  request  of  Major  Powderdry,  one 
of  Colonel  Short's  smartest  lieutenants  — 
young  Carr  —  arose  and  asked  permission 
to  say  a  word.  There  was  some  grum- 
bling, but  a  vociferous  "  Ay ! "  yielded  him 
the  privilege.  He  mounted  the  platform: 

MR.  CHAIRMAN  AND  GENTLEMEN,  —  We 
are  going  to  win.  (Applause.)  We  have  got  a 
good  ticket.  (Applause.)  Harmony  is  thick 
and  beautiful  around  here.  (Smiles.)  The  only 
discordant  note  is  a  little  difference  of  opinion 
about  the  sheriff.  (Laughter.)  We  are  bur- 
dened with  five  good  men,  —  embarrassed  with 
riches.  My  fellow  delegates  from  this  district 
and  myself  have  voted  for  every  one  of  them 
on  the  various  ballots,  and  to  save  our  lives 
we  can't  say  which  is  the  best  man.  (Applause 
and  laughter.)  We'd  like  to  nominate  you  all. 
(More  laughter.)  But  it  would  be  like  putting 
too  much  sauce  on  the  apple-dumpling ;  it  would 
make  the  ticket  too  rich.  (More  laughter  and 
applause.)  Now  I  want  to  get  home  some  time 
to-night.  So  do  you.  We  want  to  leave  with 
the  knowledge  that  we  have  done  our  work. 
We  don't  want  to  carry  away  any  hard  feel- 
ings. It  is  for  that  purpose  that  I  arise  here 
on  behalf  of  several  districts,  including  our 
own,  to  suggest  a  name  that  will  be  endorsed 
by  every  man  in  this  convention,  by  the  whole 


THE   NOMINATION.  Ill 

county,  that  will  add  strength  to  the  ticket  and 
give  enthusiasm  to  the  party.  I  can  pay  this 
name  no  higher  tribute  than  to  say  that  it  is 
the  peer  of  the  gentlemen  who  are  now  before 
this  convention.  (Applause.)  In  the  interest 
of  harmony,  in  the  assurance  of  victory,  and 
in  the  hope  of  getting  my  supper  before 
breakfast,  I  nominate  David  Gad,  of  Sussex 
District." 

The  surprise  was  complete.  The  applause 
began  slowly ;  then  it  took  a  jump ;  and 
finally  it  swept  through  the  room  and 
carried  everything  before  it.  It  gained 
momentum  when  it  was  whispered  around 
that  David  had  been  purposely  gotten  out 
of  the  room.  Major  Powderdry  led  in  the 
enthusiasm.  The  nomination  was  quickly 
seconded.  A  ballot  began.  Before  it  was 
half  taken,  the  nomination  was  made.  A 
great  howl  went  up. 

In  the  jury-room  Colonel  Short  looked  at 
David  and  remarked,  "  It  seems  to  be  all 
right." 

As  David  smiled  in  reply,  the  door  was 
burst  open,  and  in  rushed  Major  Powder- 
dry,  his  face  beatified  with  unanimous  joy, 
his  arms  in  ecstatic  gesture,  his  coat  tails 
flying  with  nervous  enthusiasm,  and  his 
whole  being  full  of  the  oliss  of  victory  — 
for  his  district. 


112  THE   NOMINATION. 

He  took  David,  dragged  him  before  the 
convention,  and  shouted,  "  Hurrah  for  Sus- 
sex and  our  next  sheriff !  " 

As  the  cheers  went  up,  David  asked 
what  it  all  meant.  He  was  the  idealization 
of  innocent  astonishment.  The  delegates 
seemed  to  enjoy  it. 

And  so  did  Colonel  Short,  who  was  stand- 
ing in  the  jury-room  door  and  looking  smil- 
ingly on.  He  was  thinking  of  the  possible 
future  in  politics  for  a  man  of  David  Gad's 
tact  and  scheming. 

It  was  late  when  Mr.  Gad  reached  home, 
but  Ruth  was  patiently  waiting  for  him. 
The  news  dazed  her,  and  he  did  the  talking. 

"  Now  don't  say  a  word  about  it,  my  dear. 
It's  the  best  paying  office  in  the  county. 
The  people  think  it 's  been  shoved  on  me. 
Let  them  think  so.  Colonel  Short  and  I 
won't  deny  it.  Oh  yes;  you  were  asking 
why  I  didn't  tell  you  all  about  it.  Well, 
my  dear,  running  a  store  and  running  poli- 
tics are  two  different  things.  If  you  want 
anything  in  the  store,  the  best  way  to  get 
it  is  to  ask  for  it.  If  you  want  anything  in 
politics,  the  best  way  to  get  it  is  to  get  it 
without  asking  for  it.  And  moreover,  my 
dear,  a  truthful  woman  like  you  is  never 
safe  in  politics,  unless  she  don't  know  what 
she  is  talking  about." 


THE   OPENING  GUN. 


/\T  first  David  Gad's  nomination  for 
sheriff  was  received  with  great  enthusiasm. 
All  this  made  David's  wife  Ruth  happy. 
Politics  was  n't  such  a  bad  thing,  after  all. 

But  gradually  the  enthusiasm  began  to 
cool.  David's  party  opponents,  seeing  the 
necessity  of  finding  some  weakness  in  his 
candidacy,  quieted  their  consciences  with 
the  fine  things  they  had  said,  and  proceeded 
to  manufacture  campaign  material.  It  thus 
came  about  that  David's  just  dealings  were 
nothing  more  than  extortion,  and  that  his  suc- 
cess was  an  affront  to  every  neighbor  who 
had  not  succeeded.  Who  was  he,  anyhow  ? 
Simply  a  poor  country  boy,  who  had  got 
along  in  some  mysterious  way,  and  had  now 
reached  the  eminence  of  a  high  place  on  the 
ticket,  when  there  were  older  men  in  the  dis- 
trict who  should  have  had  the  honor.  This 
talk  pleased  the  older  men,  and  although 
outwardly  supporting  David,  they  had  hard 
8 


114  THE   OPENING   GUN. 

feelings  in  their  hearts,  and  listened  to  the 
talk  against  him  with  a  complaisant  air  of 
secret  gratification. 

All  this  David  saw  and  appreciated.  He 
went  to  town,  and  had  a  long  talk  with 
Colonel  Short.  The  colonel  was  affable 
and  interested. 

"  I  understand  it  perfectly,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  always  that  way,  and  we  '11  have  to  whip 
those  fellows  into  line.  We  're  going  to 
have  a  pretty  hard  fight  this  year,  and 
you  must  pile  up  a  handsome  majority  in 
Sussex  District  to  help  us  out.  The  best 
way  is  to  begin  by  getting  up  the  biggest 
meeting  you  have  ever  held.  Your  store  at 
the  Cross-roads  is  a  central  point,  and  there 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  draw  a 
crowd.  Who  is  your  worst  man  ?  " 

"  Old  Silas  Legg  is  about  as  bad  as  any- 
body. I  traded  horses  with  him  once,  and 
he  never  got  over  it." 

"  Yes ;  I  know  him.  He  is  n't  much  ac- 
count, but  you  can  make  him  chairman  of 
the  meeting.  How  about  the  speakers  ?  " 

"  There  is  Major  Powderdry.  We  '11  have 
to  have  him,  and  yet  if  he  gets  started  he  '11 
talk  all  night." 

"  And  say  nothing.  Well,  invent  some 
means  to  shut  him  off.  I  '11  send  Carr,  and 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  115 

you  can  get  some  of  your  neighbors  to  make 
a  few  remarks,  and  your  men  to  be  in  readi- 
ness to  applaud.  And  above  all  things,  get 
the  more  influential  colored  people  there. 
We  need  some  of  their  votes." 

David  went  home,  and  began  to  make  the 
arrangements.  Notices  were  posted  on  trees 
and  houses  announcing .  — 

The  Opening  Gun  of  the  Campaign. 

Great  Outpouring  of  the  Citizens  of  Sussex. 

All  in  Favor  of  Honest  Government  and  Low 

Taxes  Will  Attend. 

Eloquent  Speeches  by  Major  Hamilton  Powder- 
dry,  Hon.  Silas  Legg,  Hon.  Erastus  Crawley, 
Hon.  Brent  Carr. 
Ladies  Invited. 

Freemen,  Assert  your  Rights  ! 
Save  the  County  from  Extravagance  and 

Misrule  ! 

Don't  Forget  the  Place  and  Date. 
Gad's  Cross-roads,  Thursday  Night,  Seven- 
Thirty  O'Clock. 
Come  One,  Come  All  1 

A  platform  was  constructed  for  the  oc- 
casion. It  was  rough,  but  strong.  In  front 
were  benches  for  the  people. 


Il6  THE   OPENING  GUN. 

Of  course  the  meeting  excited  great  inter- 
est. It  offered  a  break  in  the  dull  routine 
of  Sussex  life,  and  the  list  of  speakers  gave 
a  decided  attraction  to  the  programme. 
Moreover,  mass-meetings  in  Sussex  had 
some  unexpected  features  that  were  worth 
seeing.  Everything  was  fair  in  political 
warfare. 

For  days  the  orators  advertised  on  the 
printed  bills  were  full  of  varied  emotions. 
Major  Powderdry,  more  inflated  than  ever 
with  his  importance,  rehearsed  daily  for  his 
greatest  effort.  Silas  Legg  did  n't  think 
that  he  would  go  to  the  meeting  at  all,  but 
his  name  in  big  letters  on  the  posters  was 
too  much  for  his  vanity.  Erastus  Crawley, 
after  saying  he  would  n't  speak,  drove  his 
children  out  of  his  room  because  they  inter- 
fered with  some  writing  he  was  attending  to, 
and  that  night  he  scared  his  wife  nearly  to 
death  by  jumping  up  in  bed  and  shouting, 
"  Fellow-citizens,  I  did  not  expect  to  make  a 
speech,  but  —  "  He  did  n't  get  any  further, 
for  Mrs.  Crawley  pulled  down  his  uplifted 
arm  and  asked  him  if  he  was  crazy. 

David  contemplated  his  work  Thursday 
morning  with  considerable  satisfaction. 
Everything  was  ready.  The  weather  was 
gloriously  fair,  the  atmosphere  was  com- 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  117 

fortable,  and  all  the  signs  pointed  to  a  great 
success.  Sussex  District  did  not  boast  a 
brass  band,  but  the  meeting  itself  would 
draw  the  people.  The  opposition  were  curi- 
ously quiet,  and  David  was  doubtful  as  to 
what  tactics  they  would  pursue.  He  had 
not  forgotten  the  night,  several  years  before, 
when  they  hid  a  hornets'  nest  under  one  of 
the  benches,  but  he  did  not  think  they  would 
try  such  a  thing  again ;  and  even  if  they  did, 
it  was  too  late  in  the  season  for  hornets  to 
take  much  exercise.  No  ;  the  matter  which 
bothered  him  most  was  some  way  to  cut  off 
Major  Powderdry's  dull  monotony  of  sound. 
He  thought  out  various  schemes,  with  no 
success  at  all,  and  then,  taking  recourse  to 
his  usual  philosophy,  he  decided  to  wait  for 
some  kind  fortune  to  help  him  out. 

By  seven  o'clock  the  people  had  arrived. 
Along  the  road  the  carriages  and  wagons 
and  horses  made  an  imposing  display.  The 
benches  were  filled,  crowds  stood  around 
the  edges,  and  everybody  was  ready  for 
the  eloquence  of  the  evening.  Mrs.  Ruth 
Gad,  surrounded  by  the  best  ladies  of  the 
district,  occupied  seats  well  in  front.  Pres- 
ently the  distinguished  speakers  filled  the 
chairs  on  the  platform.  David  was  there 
in  his  best  suit  of  clothes.  Silas  Legg's 


Il8  THE   OPENING   GUN. 

linen  was  radiant  and  bountiful,  and  he  held 
himself  like  a  new  school  trustee  at  a  female 
Commencement.  Erastus  Crawley  had  a 
conscious  air,  and  occasionally  his  lips 
moved,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  keep  his 
impromptu  speech  well  in  memory.  Young 
Carr  sat  with  the  easy  grace  of  an  experi- 
enced speaker,  and,  like  a  good  politician, 
looked  for  his  inspiration  in  the  faces  of  the 
rosy-cheeked  country  girls  in  the  audience. 
More  prominent  than  all  of  these  was  Major 
Powderdry,who  was  trembling  on  the  thresh- 
old of  his  greatest  effort.  He  crossed  and 
recrossed  his  legs  until  his  trousers  were  in 
danger  of  being  worn  out.  He  talked  first 
to  one  neighbor  and  then  to  another,  and 
waited  with  great  impatience  until  the  party 
men  of  the  district  got  seated  on  the  stage. 
Then  arising,  and  kicking  down  his  trousers, 
which  through  too  much  movement  had 
climbed  above  his  shoe  tops,  he  exhibited 
his  large  expanse  of  cuffs,  and  said,  — 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  move  that  the 
Honorable  Silas  Legg,  our  distinguished 
fellow-citizen,  be  made  chairman  of  this 
splendid  outpouring  of  the  people." 

The  motion  was  seconded,  and  Mr.  Legg, 
whose  "  honorable"  had  come  from  one  brief 
term  in  the  Legislature  years  before,  arose, 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  1 19 

and  slowly  moved  to  the  small  table  in  front. 
He  bowed  to  the  applause,  bowed  to  the 
platform,  and  bowed  to  the  audience.  Then, 
in  a  piping  voice,  he  thanked  the  people  for 
the  compliment,  and  spoke  of  the  pride  of 
the  district  in  the  nomination  of  "  that  citi- 
zen whom  we  all  love  for  his  ability  and 
integrity,  Mr.  David  Gad,  our  next  sheriff." 
There  was  great  applause ;  and  Ruth  blushed, 
and  felt  very  proud  indeed  that  she  had  such 
a  husband.  Mr.  Legg  referred  to  the  party ; 
told  the  people  that  they  ought  to  cast  their 
votes  "  early  but  not  often,"  and  then  said 
he  would  not  delay  the  proceedings  with 
any  further  remarks,  but  would  introduce  a 
man  whom  they  all  knew  and  all  honored,  — 
the  Honorable  Erastus  Crawley. 

Mr.  Crawley,  who  likewise  had  been  in 
the  Legislature,  moved  to  the  front  with 
easy  grace.  He  raised  his  hand  and  began : 

"  Fellow-citizens,  I  did  not  expect  to  make 
a  speech,  but  no  man  who  loves  his  party 
as  I  love  it  can  face  this  assemblage  and 
wish  to  be  quiet.  It  is  a  proud  privilege  to 
appear  before  you,  and  to  say  a  few  words 
in  behalf  of  the  splendid  ticket  that  our 
party  has  placed  in  the  field,  —  a  ticket 
sound  as  a  dollar  and  good  as  gold;  a 
ticket  which  contains  the  name  of  our  friend 


120  THE   OPENING   GUN. 

and  neighbor  David  Gad,  who  will  be  our 
next  sheriff  when  the  setting  sun  shall  fall 
upon  the  ides  of  November,  and  place  upon 
our  banners  the  insignia  of  victory." 

The  people  did  not  take  time  to  think 
how  a  setting  sun  was  to  put  insignia  on 
the  banners  ;  it  was  n't  necessary ;  they  sim- 
ply saw  Mr.  Crawley's  strong  arm  come 
down  upon  the  table,  and  they  heard  his 
voice  fall  into  a  cadence  that  demanded 
applause,  and  they  applauded.  This  roused 
the  orator,  and  on  he  went,  dealing  out 
assurances  of  success  and  preaching  party 
principles  with  rotund  vehemence  that  called 
forth  the  liveliest  manifestations  of  delight. 
Major  Powderdry  was  getting  still  more 
fidgety,  for  he  feared  that  Crawley  would 
capture  all  the  honors.  Fortunately  for  his 
nerves,  however,  Mr.  Crawley  foundered. 
His  memory  gave  out,  and  he  had  to  jump 
over  a  whole  section  of  his  speech  to  the 
conclusion,  which  he  delivered  in  the  true 
war-horse  style.  He  sat  down,  and  with  a 
big  red  handkerchief,  which  was  reserved 
strictly  for  special  occasions,  wiped  off  the 
perspiration  that  had  come  from  his  sturdy 
oratory. 

Both  speeches  had  been  brief.  Then  it 
was  Major  Powderdry 's  turn.  Slowly  and 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  121 

pompously  he  came  to  the  front.  At  each 
stage  of  the  applause  his  importance  swelled. 
He  bowed  with  the  generous  grace  of  a  true 
orator. 

'•  Mr.  Chairman,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
fellow-countrymen,  and  fellow-citizens,"  he 
said,  with  noble  impressiveness,  as  he  raised 
his  hand  and  again  exhibited  his  immaculate 
cuff,  "  the  assembled  loveliness  and  yeo- 
manry of  proud  old  Sussex  inspires  me  with 
the  belief  that  the  mighty  voice  of  the  sover- 
eign people,  speaking  through  the  unerring 
medium  of  their  patriotic  enthusiasm,  has 
ably  and  eloquently  foreshadowed  the  splen- 
did victory  that  will  greet  our  magnificent 
old  party  in  November."  (Applause.) 

This  sentence  would  undoubtedly  have 
ended  more  sonorously  if  Mr.  Crawley  had 
not  snatched  "  the  ides  of  November  "  from 
the  major,  and  made  him  change  his  words. 
But  fortunately  the  rest  of  the  speech  dif- 
fered entirely  from  Mr.  Crawley's,  and  the 
major  had  no  difficulty  in  rolling  off  his  long 
and  tedious  phrases.  Once  fully  started,  he 
was  like  a  boat  launched  in  the  tide ;  he 
kept  on  going  until  —  until  — 

Yes,  until  something  happened.  It  was 
while  he  was  growing  eloquent  over  the 
"  matchless  and  deathless  principles  of  our 


122  THE   OPENING   GUN. 

glorious  old  party"  that  a  strain  of  music 
with  sundry  shouts  came  from  down  the 
road,  about  a  hundred  yards  away.  The 
major  drowned  it  with  his  voice ;  but  up  it 
came  again,  louder  than  ever.  Quickly 
some  secret  telegraph  spread  it  around  that 
there  was  a  performing  bear  in  the  vicinity. 
The  news  had  a  wonderful  effect.  At  first, 
those  on  the  outside  slipped  away.  Then 
the  benches  began  to  be  emptied.  The 
major  talked  on  with  brave  resolution ;  but 
what  was  a  mere  orator  in  a  country  district 
to  a  performing  bear? 

David  Gad  was  in  dismay.  Only  the 
women  and  a  few  men  were  left  in  the 
audience.  His  meeting  was  on  the  verge  of 
failure.  He  called  a  man,  and  found  out 
the  trouble.  He  did  not  hesitate. 

"Keep  it  going,  gentlemen,  till  I  get 
back,"  he  said.  And  jumping  off  the  plat- 
form, he  hurried  to  the  road. 

The  plotters  of  the  opposition  quickly 
mingled  with  the  crowd  when  they  saw  him 
approaching.  He  came  on,  with  his  face 
full  of  determination.  It  had  been  many 
years  since  he  had  seen  a  bear,  but  his  curi- 
osity was  overwhelmed  in  his  desire  to  save 
the  meeting. 

There,  in  the   centre   of  the  crowd,  the 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  123 

poor  old  bear  was  dancing  to  the  discord 
of  an  asthmatic  bagpipe.  David  marched 
boldly  into  the  arena  and  demanded  the 
cause  of  the  interference.  The  man  promptly 
replied  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  town, 
and  that  some  young  gentlemen  had  paid  him 
a  dollar  to  give  a  performance. 

"  Come  with  me,"  whispered  David,  "  and 
I  '11  give  you  two  dollars ;  and  if  you  don't 
come,  I  '11  have  you  arrested." 

The  two  dollars  was  a  stronger  induce- 
ment than  the  threat.  Very  promptly  the 
man,  leading  the  bear,  followed  David  Gad, 
and  behind  them  came  the  crowd  that  had 
forsaken  the  meeting. 

The  animal  produced  a  great  sensation. 
Major  Powderdry  took  a  recess  ;  and  when 
it  was  seen  that  David  was  going  to  have 
that  bear  give  a  brief  performance  on  the 
platform,  the  excitement  reached  an  inten- 
sity which  had  never  been  known  in  that 
neighborhood. 

"  He  is  harmless,  gentlemen,"  was  David's 
assurance ;  but  it  did  not  assure  the  distin- 
guished committee-men  and  officers.  They 
did  not  care  to  share  the  honors  of  the  plat- 
form with  a  bear.  Hon.  Silas  Legg  surren- 
dered the  chairmanship,  and  became  a 
humble  spectator ;  Hon.  Erastus  Crawley 


124  THE  OPENING   GUN. 

thought  he  would  rather  see  the  proceed- 
ings from  the  audience;  and  Major  Powder- 
dry,  with  a  look  of  supreme  contempt,  retired 
to  the  corner  of  the  stage,  where  he  could 
easily  jump  off  at  the  first  sign  of  hostility. 
David  Gad  remained  bravely  at  his  post. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  we  not 
only  defy  the  opposition,  but  we  capture  their 
ammunition  ;  and  we  are  going  to  show  you 
the  kind  of  arguments  that  they  use,  by 
letting  their  animals  give  a  little  show." 
(Applause.) 

David  motioned  to  the  man,  and  he  came 
forward  with  the  bagpipe  and  the  bear.  He 
played  a  tune  —  or  an  apology  for  a  tune  — 
and  Bruin  danced  to  the  music.  Everybody 
was  attentive.  The  performance  met  with 
great  applause,  and  a  second  instalment  was 
called  for.  David  had  secured  the  undi- 
vided respect  of  every  man  and  woman  in 
the  place. 

"Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  will 
have  some  more  speech-making.  Nothing 
like  variety,  you  know." 

The  man  and  the  bear  retired.  The  ani- 
mal lay  down  on  the  far  corner  of  the  plat- 
form. Major  Powderdry  saw  the  field  open, 
and  advanced  to  finish  his  speech.  David 
was  sorely  disappointed.  He  had  hoped  the 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  125 

major  would  not  try  again;  but  the  major 
was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  spend  a  week 
over  his  greatest  effort,  and  have  it  ruined 
by  such  untoward  circumstances.  He  began 
at  the  safe  corner  of  the  platform,  but  his 
eloquence  being  of  the  moving  sort  —  espe- 
cially in  its  effects  on  himself  —  he  gradually 
warmed  up  to  his  words  and  approached  the 
centre  of  the  stage.  His  oratory  was  never 
better.  The  audience  was  interested,  and 
the  bear  was  quiet.  Presently  he  reached 
a  climax  that  called  for  applause.  It  came 
vociferously.  David  joined  in  it  by  stamp- 
ing on  the  platform.  The  bear  woke  up 
and  growled.  The  major  looked  around, 
and  seeing  Bruin,  promptly  returned  to  his 
corner. 

Again  he  proceeded.  Again  he  waxed  elo- 
quent. Again  there  was  applause.  Again 
Bruin  growled,  and  again  the  major  retired 
from  the  centre  of  the  stage  to  his  corner. 

A  third  time  he  started  out  to  awake  the 
echoes. 

"In  the  multiplied  industries,  the  diverse 
interests  of  our  glorious  nation,"  he  said, 
"what  party  has  afforded  the  most  sacred 
security  to  our  advancing  progress  ?  What 
principles,  founded  on  justice  and  built  by 
experience,  compassing  the  munificent  wis- 


126  THE   OPENING  GUN. 

dom  of  past  history  with  the  magnificent 
practicalities  of  the  golden  age  of  the 
present,  have  given  the  rich  incentives  to 
our  expanding  civilization,  the  splendid 
promise  of  freedom  and  safety  to  our 
sovereign  citizenship,  and  the  sure  protec- 
tion against  extravagance  in  our  public 
affairs?  What  principles,  I  say,  —  and  I 
repeat  it  with  all  the  earnestness  of  my 
soul,  —  what  principles,  except  those  which 
are  embodied,  like  jewels  in  rich  settings 
of  gold,  in  the  platform  and  practices  of 
our  great  and  glorious  old  party?" 

There  was  tremendous  applause.  The 
people  clapped  their  hands  and  hurrahed. 
David  stamped  on  the  platform  with  all  the 
force  of  his  heavy  new  boots.  And  sud- 
denly the  bear,  with  a  noisier  growl  than 
ever,  arose  to  his  feet,  and  made  a  step  for- 
ward. The  major  heard  him,  and  saw  him 
advance.  In  his  heated  imagination,  red  hot 
from  the  fires  of  eloquence,  he  fancied  a 
whole  drove  of  bears  coming  upon  him  with 
distended  jaws.  He  did  not  tarry,  but  with 
a  leap  cleared  the  stage,  and  took  refuge  in 
the  audience. 

Great  excitement  began,  but  a  panic  was 
easily  averted  by  the  man,  who  took  hold  of 
the  chain  and  pulled  the  animal  back. 


THE   OPENING   GUN.  127 

David  again  came  to  the  front.  "  That 
was  a  beautiful  speech  of  Major  Powder- 
dry's,"  he  said.  "  It  was  sound  and  reason- 
able and  eloquent.  Now,  to  show  you  a 
contrast,  we  '11  have  another  of  the  sort  of 
speeches  our  enemies  use." 

This  reassured  the  people,  who  caught  the 
full  spirit  of  the  fun.  The  music  began, 
and  the  bear  advanced  in  the  usual  way. 
While  the  performance  was  in  progress 
David  retired,  and  called  some  of  his  men 
to  him. 

"  Get  this  man  and  this  bear  away  from 
here,"  he  whispered.  "  Drive  them  down 
the  road,  and  threaten  to  hang  the  man  to 
a  tree  if  he  don't  get  out  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. And  mind,  do  it  quietly." 

When  the  dance  was  over  David  took 
the  man  to  the  rear  of  the  stage,  and  placed 
two  dollars  in  his  hand.  As  he  did  so  he 
whispered,  — 

"  Get  away  from  here.  Leave  the  neigh- 
borhood. If  you  don't,  we  '11  string  you  to 
a  tree." 

The  event  had  filled  the  poor  wanderer 
with  astonishment.  He  had  been  so  dazed 
that  he  scarcely  remembered  his  old  tunes. 
The  amazement  kept  on  increasing,  and  this 
last  admonition  settled  him.  Grabbing  the 


128  THE  OPENING   GUN. 

money  and  holding  it  tightly,  he  got  off  the 
platform,  and  pulled  the  bear  after  him. 
Then,  plunging  into  the  darkness,  he  fled 
from  the  place. 

Quite  promptly  and  complacently  David 
came  to  the  front  again.  He  had  bloomed 
out  on  the  platform  all  at  once.  It  surprised 
no  one  more  than  himself  to  find  that  he  was 
talking  in  a  good  voice  to  so  many  people 
whom  he  had  never  faced  collectively  before. 
The  excitement  and  the  needs  of  the  hour 
developed  him.  He  introduced  Mr.  Carr 
with  a  vigorous  flourish  of  compliments,  and 
the  young  orator  proceeded  to  give  the  peo- 
ple a  strong,  practical,  persuasive  speech, 
illustrated  and  brightened  by  good  stories 
that  kept  every  one  amused  and  interested, 
his  remarks  being  so  entertaining  that  the 
bear  was  for  the  time  forgotten. 

It  was  getting  rather  late  —  late  for  the 
country,  of  course  —  when  Carr  finished ;  but 
he  saw  that  the  people  were  not  especially 
tired,  and  he  took  David's  breath  away  by 
saying  that  he  was  sure  everybody  wanted  to 
hear  a  few  words  from  the  candidate  for 
sheriff.  He  was  shrewd  enough  to  observe 
that  David  had  in  him  a  strong  vein  of  elo- 
quent common-sense.  His  handling  of  the 
bear  incident  showed  that.  David  hesi- 


THE   OPENING  GUN.  129 

tated,  but  when  the  demand  became  urgent, 
he  arose  and  tried  to  say  something,  looking 
to  Ruth  for  his  inspiration. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began,  "  I 
am  no  speech-maker :  but  as  the  representa- 
tive of  this  district  on  the  ticket,  I  feel  proud 
of  the  honor,  and  I  tell  you  squarely  that  I 
want  your  votes.  ("  You  '11  get  'em,"  shouted 
a  voice.)  I  believe  I  will,  my  friend ;  and 
I  tell  you  now  that  some  people  will  have 
about  as  much  success  in  downing  our  ticket 
as  they  did  in  trying  to  stop  this  meeting. 
(Great  applause.)  We  '11  not  only  capture 
them,  but  their  bears  and  all  the  other  ani- 
mals in  their  menagerie.  (Renewed  demon- 
strations.) Fellow-citizens,  I  'd  like  to  say 
one  word  about  that  bear.  You  noticed 
him  did  n't  you  ?  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
bear?  (Laughter.)  He  was  strong  and 
healthy,  and  yet  he  looked  poor  and  weak 
and  ashamed  —  looked  as  if  he  had  lost  his 
self-respect  and  independence.  Now  think 
a  minute.  What  does  that  bear  do  ?  He 
does  all  the  work.  He  does  the  dancing, 
while  the  man  with  the  wind-bag  plays  the 
music.  So  far  so  good.  Now  when  the 
money  comes  in,  who  gets  it,  — the  bear 
that  makes  the  show  a  success,  or  the  man 
with  the  wind  ?  Why,  the  poor  old  bear 
9 


130  THE   OPENING  GUN. 

don't  get  anything.  If  sugar-cured  hams 
were  a  cent  apiece,  he  would  never  know 
the  taste  of  them  in  a  year.  (Laughter.) 
The  man  just  plays,  and  the  old  bear  dances, 
and  I  would  n't  wonder  if  he  was  fool  enough 
to  think  that  he  was  doing  the  right  thing. 
(Laughter.)  Now,  it  strikes  me,  fellow- 
citizens,  that  our  friends  on  the  other  side 
have  sent  us  a  first-class  specimen  of  their 
way  of  running  their  party.  ("  That 's  so  !  " 
said  a  voice.)  I  see  before  me  some  good 
members  of  that  party,  and  I  see  some 
colored  voters  who  belong  to  it,  too.  Now 
I  ask  them  if  their  bosses  have  not  been 
playing  on  the  wind-bag,  and  making  them 
do  the  dancing.  (Laughter.)  Have  n't 
they  cast  the  votes,  while  the  bosses  stood 
around  and  waited  for  the  prizes  ?  Who 
got  the  proceeds?  Why,  fellow-citizens  of 
the  other  side  of  the  fence,  you  have  been 
doing  all  the  work,  and  you  have  n't  got  a 
smell  of  the  results.  (Laughter  and  ap- 
plause.) You  are  the  bear,  and  the  bosses 
are  the  firm  that  plays  a  little  campaign 
music,  and  takes  all  the  offices.  (Great 
laughter.)  Why  don't  you  come  into  a 
party  that  treats  you  like  men,  that  respects 
your  independence  and  glories  in  your  man- 
hood? (Great  applause.)  You  have  heard 


THE  OPENING  GUN.  13! 

the  splendid  speeches  here  to-night.  These 
men  talked  to  your  reason  ;  they  did  n't  play 
on  wind,  and  expect  you  to  do  the  dancing 
while  they  put  the  money  in  their  pockets, 
and  left  you  to  prowl  around  the  corn-fields 
for  your  supper.  (More  laughter  and  re- 
newed applause.)  Come  into  an  honest 
party.  We  Ve  already  got  a  big  majority, 
but  there  's  always  room  for  more  ;  and  we 
will  see  that  you  will  be  treated  like  free 
American  citizens,  and  not  like  animals  to 
be  trotted  out  once  a  year  to  do  the  voting  for 
somebody  else's  profit.  I  thank  you,  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  for  your  kind  attention." 

There  was  n't  any  applause  too  fervent  for 
David  Gad.  He  had  spoken  in  a  homely, 
forcible  way,  carrying  everybody  with  him. 
Mr.  Legg's  piping  words,  Mr.  Crawley's 
tumultuous  blows,  Major  Powderdry's  volu- 
ble rhetoric,  and  even  Carr's  able  arguments, 
were  forgotten  in  the  apt  and  telling  illus- 
tration of  the  candidate  for  sheriff.  The 
people  were  astonished  at  his  performance, 
and  were  proud  of  his  success,  and  they 
crowded  to  the  front  to  shake  him  by  the 
hand. 

"  David,"  said  Carr,  "  that  is  worth  a  hun- 
dred votes." 

But  David  shook  his  head,  and  began  to 


132  THE   OPENING  GUN. 

compliment  the  other  speakers.  He  thanked 
the  Hon.  Silas  Legg  for  his  kindness  and 
his  eloquent  words ;  he  thanked  the  Hon. 
Erastus  Crawley  for  his  magnificent  speech ; 
he  thanked  Major  Powderdry  for  his  splen- 
did address  —  "  the  best  I  ever  heard,  major ; 
as  fine  as  anything  any  orator  could  do." 

And  so  everybody  went  home  pleased  and 
satisfied. 

Carr  spent  the  night  at  David  Gad's. 
When  all  the  people  had  gone,  Carr  and 
David  and  Ruth  sat  down  to  a  little  sup- 
per which  Ruth  had  prepared.  Ruth  was 
prouder  than  ever  of  her  husband. 

"  That  bear  was  very  funny,"  she  said ; 
"but  it  was  too  bad  for  it  to  scare  poor 
Major  Powderdry  so !  Was  n't  it,  Mr. 
Carr?" 

Carr  looked  at  David,  and  noticed  a 
vagrant  smile  steal  over  his  face. 

"  David,  how  did  you  manage  it  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  do  anything  !  There  was 
a  loose  board  on  the  platform.  I  was  sitting 
on  one  end  of  it  and  the  bear  was  on  the 
other  end,  and  somehow  when  I  applauded, 
the  board  flew  up  and  hit  the  bear,  and  the 
bear  did  n't  seem  to  like  it.  Carr,"  exclaimed 


THE  OPENING   GUN.  133 

David,  "  that  bear  saved  the  meeting.  Some 
kind  Providence  sent  him  here  to-night.  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  him,  the  major  would 
have  talked  all  night." 

Ruth  laid  down  her  knife  and  fork,  and 
gazed  sadly  at  her  husband. 

"  David,"  she  said,  as  she  shook  her  head, 
"  I  'm  afraid  politics  will  be  the  ruination  of 
you." 

But  Carr  declared  that  it  was  the  best 
thing  he  had  ever  heard  of,  and  he  accused 
David  of  having  the  bear  around  on  pur- 
pose;  but  David  denied  this,  and  said  it 
was  nothing  but  pure  good-luck,  "which," 
he  added,  "  is  better  than  riches,  and  is  just 
as  good  as  a  campaign  fund." 


THE  ELECTION. 

MATTERS  did  not  go  as  well  with  the 
candidacy  of  David  Gad  as  the  beginning 
had  promised.  Even  the  great  mass-meeting 
did  not  reassure  the  success  which  was  so 
certain  at  first. 

With  his  good  wife  Ruth  he  was  sitting 
in  the  parlor.  He  seemed  disconsolate. 
Ruth  busied  herself  with  sewing,  while  he 
gazed  alternately  at  the  lamp  and  floor. 

"  David,"  said  Ruth,  "  something  is  troub- 
ling you." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  something  usually  is." 

"  You  have  n't  any  doubt  about  your  elec- 
tion, have  you  ?  " 

"Of  course  not.  Did  you  ever  know  a 
candidate  to  have  any  doubts  except  as  to 
the  size  of  his  majority  ?  " 

"  Now  I  know  something 's  wrong.  What 
is  it?" 

David  did  not  answer.  He  looked  steadily 
and  sturdily  at  the  floor.  Ruth  waited 
awhile,  and  then  resumed :  — 


THE   ELECTION.  135 

"  What  is  it,  David  ?  You  have  n't  been 
comfortable  since  the  mail  came  in  yester- 
day." 

David  glanced  up  quickly.  "  Ruth,"  he 
said,  "  did  you  ever  see  through  a  brick 
wall?" 

"  The  idea  of  such  a  question  !  I  believe 
you  are  losing  your  mind.  You've  lost 
about  everything  else  since  you  got  into 
politics." 

"Yes,"  responded  the  candidate  for 
sheriff,  gloomily ;  "  and  I  'm  going  to  lose 
more." 

Ruth  dropped  her  sewing  and  gazed  at 
him  in*  open-eyed  dismay.  "  What !  "  she 
asked,  "  do  they  want  money  ?  Why,  they 
declared  it  should  n't  cost  you  anything." 

David  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  It 's  al- 
ways that  way,"  he  said.  "  They  sugar-coat 
you  with  compliments,  and  for  every  compli- 
ment they  issue  a  note  that  you  've  got  to 
pay  before  the  campaign  ends.  This  poli- 
tics, Ruth,  is  a  great  scheme  to  use  a  man's 
vanity  for  opening  his  pocket-book.  It 's 
got  so  that  I  'm  afraid  to  hear  a  man  praise 
me,  lest  he  should  come  around  afterward 
to  borrow  money,  and  I  'm  disappointed  if 
he  does  n't  come,  because  I  feel  sure  he  's 
going  to  vote  against  me." 


136  THE   ELECTION. 

"  Now,  David,  if  they  said  that  you  would 
strengthen  the  ticket,  and  if  that  is  why  they 
put  you  on,  why  don't  they  go  ahead  and 
elect  you  ?  " 

"  Bless  your  innocent  soul,  Ruth,  you  don't 
know  politics !  Six  weeks  ago  they  all  said 
I  'd  go  through  with  flying  colors,  and  every- 
body was  crowding  around  promising  to  put 
up  money  and  help  me,  but  six  weeks  in 
politics  is  about  six  years  longer  than 
eternity." 

"  Did  n't  they  contribute  as  they  said  they 
would  ?  " 

"  Yes,  some  did,  —  Major  Powderdry  for 
one." 

"Major  Powderdry!  Why,  David,  I 
never  knew  that  he  contributed  to  anything 
except  his  debts." 

"That's  about  what  he  did.  It  was  this 
way.  Three  weeks  ago  the  major  came 
around  and  said  he  wanted  to  make  a  good 
contribution  to  the  campaign  fund,  and 
after  a  lot  of  a-hemming  and  a-h awing  he 
asked  me  to  lend  him  a  hundred  dollars  on 
his  note.  As  long  as  I  had  taken  the  nom- 
ination from  him,  and  as  the  money  would 
help  my  own  election,  I  loaned  it  to  him." 

"  And  he  contributed  it  to  the  fund  ?  " 

David  smiled  grimly.     "  Yes,  twenty-five 


THE  ELECTION.  137 

of  it.  He  put  the  other  seventy-five  in  his 
pocket.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  ever 
knew  Major  Powderdry  was  a  financier." 

"  A  financier !  "  exclaimed  Ruth,  indig- 
nantly ;  "  I  call  it  robbery." 

"  No,  my  dear ;  it 's  finance.  As  far  as  I 
can  see,  finance  is  the  general  barter  of 
humanity,  and  the  biggest  financier  is  the 
fellow  who  manages  to  hold  on  to  the  most 
money.  Now  old  Canton  is  another  finan- 
cier. We  made  him  chairman  of  our  first 
mass-meeting,  and  gave  him  enough  honor 
for  his  whole  family.  Of  course  we  expected 
to  get  a  good  contribution  from  him.  Well, 
he  promised  and  promised.  Then  he  kept 
saying  that  times  was  hard,  and  it  all  ended 
by  his  handing  over  five  dollars  out  of  his 
fifty  thousand.  And  now  he  is  lending  me 
money,  and  making  me  pay  twelve  per  cent 
interest  on  it.  The  old  skinflint  will  make 
nearly  a  hundred  dollars  out  of  me." 

Ruth  did  not  know  much  about  politics, 
but  she  had  helped  David  in  the  store 
enough  to  understand  something  about  the 
rules  of  interest.  This  disclosure  evidently 
alarmed  her. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  asked,  "  that 
you  have  put  a  thousand  dollars  into  this 
thing?" 


138  THE  ELECTION. 

"As  the  day  of  execution  is  near  at  hand, 
my  dear,  I  suppose  I  'd  just  as  well  confess. 
A  thousand  is  about  the  size  of  it." 

"  But,  David,  I  don't  see  where  you  can 
use  all  the  money." 

"  Campaign  expenses,"  he  answered,  sen- 
tentiously. 

"  What  are  they  ?  " 

"  Printing  tickets  and  mass-meetings  and 
hiring  music,  and  —  and  other  things." 

"  What  other  things  ?  You  don't  mean  to 
say,  David,  that  you  pay  to  get  votes  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  my  dear ;  but  some  people 
have  to  be  persuaded." 

"  Persuaded  ?  " 

"  Yes,  persuaded.  There  are  lots  of  men 
who  will  vote  our  ticket,  but  they  must  be 
paid  for  their  loss  of  time.  Now,  for  in- 
stance, there  is  Bill  Simpson.  Bill  will  vote 
for  our  ticket,  but  he  needs  persuasion.  He 
wants  five  dollars  for  his  loss  of  time  in 
going  to  the  polls." 

"  But,  David,  you  know  that  he  never 
does  anything,  and  how  can  his  time  be 
valuable  ?  " 

"  That 's  just  it.  His  time  is  n't  valuable 
except  when  elections  come  round.  Then 
everybody  finds  out  that  it  is  a  very  busy 
season,  and  that  it  will  be  hard  to  get  to  the 


THE   ELECTION.  139 

voting  places  unless  the  party  does  some- 
thing for  him.  I  went  to  see  Bill.  He 
said  he  certainly  wanted  to  vote  for  me,  but 
he  did  not  see  how  he  was  going  to  get 
away,  for  he  had  a  big  job  of  work  to  do, 
and  it  would  be  worth  every  cent  of  five 
dollars  for  him  to  lay  off  and  go  to  the  polls. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  such  a  man 
unless  you  compromise  ?  " 

"  Compromise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  compromise.  "  He  '11  really  expect 
about  two  dollars.  Last  year  he  got  one." 

"  David,"  said  Ruth,  after  a  pause,  "  is  n't 
it  wrong  to  do  this  ?  " 

"  It  may  not  be  exactly  right,  dear,  but 
it 's  painfully  necessary.  At  election  time 
every  man  is  as  big  as  every  other  man,  and 
his  vote  counts  just  the  same  whether  he  is 
a  President  or  a  loafer." 

Ruth  paused  again  while  her  thoughts 
struggled  for  utterance.  Presently  she  said : 

"  David,  I  'd  rather  see  you  defeated  than 
do  anything  that  is  not  right.  I  hope  and 
pray  that  you  do  not  think  of  buying  votes." 

"  Of  course  not,  of  course  not,"  he  replied, 
with  some  warmth.  "  What  put  such  an 
idea  into  your  head  ?  And,  moreover,  what 
would  be  the  use  of  trying?  The  other 
fellows  have  the  most  money." 


140  THE   ELECTION. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  the  letter  said,  and  that 's 
what  has  been  troubling  me.  Why,  Ruth, 
the  unprincipled  scoundrels  have  three  hun- 
dred new  two-dollar  notes  for  use  on  Tues- 
day. Just  think  of  it !  That 's  enough  to 
carry  this  district  against  the  Angel  Ga- 
briel !  And  if  I  lose  Sussex,  I  lose  the  elec- 
tion and  my  thousand  dollars.  It's  awful." 

Ruth  quickly  jumped  from  criticism  to 
sympathy.  She  wanted  David  to  be  elected, 
and  she  had  thought  he  would  be  until  now, 
when  the  prospect  seemed  to  change. 

"  If  women  only  had  the  right  to  vote  ! " 
was  all  she  could  say  at  first. 

David  smiled  sardonically.  "  Yes,"  he 
said,  —  "  if  they  could.  It 's  always  '  if.'  If 
wishes  were  two-dollar  notes  I  'd  be  satis- 
fied." 

In  his  perturbation  he  picked  up  the  paper 
that  was  lying  on  the  table  and  began  to  read, 
while  Ruth  returned  to  her  sewing.  There 
was  silence  for  some  minutes  until  David 
called  for  the  scissors.  Ruth  handed  them 
to  him,  and  he  cut  a  paragraph  from  the 
sheet. 

"  Ruth,  how  many  people  around  here  take 
the 'Sussex  Weekly'?" 

She  named  several. 


THE   ELECTION.  141 

"  Well,  to-morrow  morning  I  want  you  to 
go  to  all  the  houses  and  get  the  papers.  I 
need  them." 

"  What  is  it,  David  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.  You  know  I  always 
make  it  a  rule  to  cut  things  out  that  strike 
my  fancy,  and  I  find  in  the  long  run  that 
a  newspaper  is  the  best  investment  that 
I  make,  because  it  gives  me  more  new 
ideas  than  anything  else.  I  calculate  that 
this  little  piece  of  paper  is  worth  a  hundred 
dollars,  if  not  more." 

He  folded  it  carefully  and  placed  it  in  his 
pocket-book. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast  Ruth 
started  out  to  visit  her  neighbors  to  borrow 
the  "  Sussex  Weekly."  She  succeeded  in 
bringing  back  five  copies.  David  was 
delighted.  At  dinner  she  questioned  him 
again,  but  his  only  reply  was,  — 

"  Come  down  in  the  store  when  I  close 
to-night  and  you  will  see." 

It  was  a  busy  day.  The  next  morning 
the  election  was  to  begin.  Visitors  came 
constantly  to  consult  the  candidate  for 
sheriff.  Tricks  and  rumors  of  tricks  were 
in  the  air.  Workers  wanted  money.  All 
asked  favors.  Everybody  whispered  fears 
of  defeat  in  the  private  office,  and  boasted 


142  THE   ELECTION. 

of  victory  to  the  crowd  in  front  of  the 
store.  Major  Powderdry,  radiant  in  his 
optimism,  and  exhaustless  in  his  declara- 
tions of  success,  was  there. 

"  We  will  sweep  the  county  as  clean  as 
the  celestial  dome,"  he  said,  "  and  proud 
old  Sussex  will  lead  the  districts  in  the 
great  battle  of  free  government  and  low 
taxes.  Gentlemen,"  — nodding  to  several 
smiling  members  of  the  opposition,  —  "  you  'd 
better  join  the  army,  and  march  through  the 
sea  of  politics  with  the  children  of  Israel, 
for,  sure  as  you  're  born,  it' s  going  to  be 
a  damp  season  for  the  Egyptians.  Take 
the  advice  of  a  friend,  and  get  in  out  of 
the  wet  by  voting  for  David  Gad." 

"  Major,"  replied  one  of  the  opposition, 
"  there  was  an  Irishman  once  who  happened 
in  a  field  where  there  was  a  large,  healthy 
bull.  He  pulled  out  a  red  handkerchief,  and 
the  bull  began  kicking  and  bellowing.  It 
was  very  funny.  The  Irishman  laughed  so 
loud  that  he  had  to  hold  his  sides.  But  sud- 
denly the  bull  came  close,  and  when  Paddy 
picked  himself  up  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence  he  said,  sadly,  'It's  a  mighty  good 
thing  I  got  that  laugh  in  first.'" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  major,  impres- 
sively, "  I  have  profound  respect  for  the  age 


THE   ELECTION.  143 

of  your  story,  but  excuse  me  if  I  say  that  it 
does  n't  fit  the  case.  To-morrow  we  shall 
take  that  bull  by  the  horns  and  lead  him  to 
the  slaughter  like  a  frightened  lamb  that 
has  been  fed  on  mint  sauce  just  to  whet 
our  appetites." 

The  major  was  in  his  element,  and  he 
kept  up  his  fire  of  repartee  with  undimin- 
ished  vigor.  Everybody  talked  about  the 
morrow.  Presently  somebody  discovered  a 
newspaper  clipping  pasted  on  a  board  placed 
rather  inconspicuously  near  the  desk  of  the 
store. 

"  Hello,  David,  what 's  this  ?  " 

"What's  what?" 

"  This  newspaper  article  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that !  I  suppose  it  is  something 
that  John  has  stuck  up  for  reference." 

Of  course  the  people  crowded  around  to 
see  what  it  was.  This  is  what  they  read : 

"LOOK  OUT  FOR  BAD  MONEY! 

"  We  are  informed  that  a  lot  of  counterfeit 
two-dollar  notes  are  in  circulation  in  this  State, 
and  some  of  them  have  found  their  way  into 
this  county.  The  bank  officers  tell  us  that  they 
are  so  clearly  and  perfectly  engraved  that  it  is 
difficult  for  anybody  who  is  not  an  expert  to  tell 
the  differences  from  the  real  article.  Of  course 


144  THE   ELECTION. 

our  readers  know  that  it  is  a  crime  punishable 
by  imprisonment  to  attempt  to  pass  these  notes, 
and  there  is  a  reward  for  the  arrest  of  every- 
body caught  in  the  act.  We  advise  you  all  to 
be  careful  about  this  thing.  Beware  of  new 
two-dollar  notes." 

They  read  it  carefully,  and  wanted  to 
know  its  meaning.  David  was  very  igno- 
rant about  it. 

"  John 's  simply  stuck  it  up  there,  I  guess. 
John 's  a  little  absent-minded  sometimes,  and 
he  wants  something  to  keep  him  from  taking 
in  another  counterfeit.  He  took  in  one,  and 
he  looks  as  if  he  'd  been  to  a  funeral  ever 
since." 

"  You  don't  think  that  any  of  the  bills  are 
around  here  ?  "  put  in  one  of  David's  political 
opponents,  rather  experimentally. 

"  No ;  not  that  I  know  of.  All  the  two- 
dollar  notes  I  've  seen  this  week  are  old,  and 
of  course  they  're  all  right." 

The  hour  of  breaking  up  came,  and  the 
people  started  for  their  homes.  As  they 
left  the  store,  Major  Powderdry  stood  on 
the  highest  step  and  indulged  in  more 
rhetoric. 

"  To-morrow's  setting  sun,"  he  said,  "  is 
going  to  witness  a  sight  that  will  cast  new 
glory  on  the  American  eagle.  Victory  will 


THE   ELECTION.  145 

perch  on  our  standards,  and  our  ticket  will 
go  through  like  a  streak  of  greased  light- 
ning. Sleep  well,  gentlemen,  and  be  at  the 
polls  early." 

"  We  '11  be  there,"  shouted  the  major's 
opponents. 

After  they  had  gone  and  the  shutters  were 
put  up,  Ruth  came  downstairs.  She  looked 
around  until  she  discovered  the  clipping 
pasted  on  the  board. 

"  Is  that  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  "  that 's  it." 

Good  weather  blessed  the  day  of  election. 
The  people  were  up  early.  Around  the 
polls  was  plenty  of  life  and  noise.  An  elec- 
tion in  a  rural  district  differs  entirely  from 
an  election  in  the  city.  Your  city  people 
walk  to  the  polls,  cast  their  ballots,  and 
walk  away.  The  highest  privilege  of  citi- 
zenship is  a  matter  for  expedition.  In  the 
country  it  is  an  occasion  for  assembling,  for 
gossip  and  argument  and  entreaty.  Along 
the  road  are  carriages  and  horses,  ox-carts, 
wagons,  and  all  the  curious  kinds  of  vehicles 
of  the  neighborhood.  The  voters  stop  to 
talk  and  to  consult.  No  hurry  disturbs 
them.  They  stand  around,  some  whip  in 
hand,  some  holding  tickets,  some  smoking 
bad  cigars,  and  all  personally  interested  in 
10 


146  THE  ELECTION. 

the  contest.  The  fences  are  the  reserved 
seats  of  the  occasion.  Up  the  road  in  quiet 
corners  are  the  practical  workers,  with  the 
sinews  of  war.  Behind  trees  are  jugs  and 
bottles  of  dangerous  inspiration.  A  merce- 
nary voter  is  never  in  haste  to  vote.  He 
canvasses  the  situation,  finds  out  the  re- 
sources of  both  sides,  gets  frequent  exhilara- 
tion from  the  jugs  and  the  bottles,  and 
finally  casts  his  ballot  with  the  largest 
pecuniary  benefit  to  himself.  The  efforts 
of  the  workers  to  monopolize  this  individual 
are  earnest,  prolonged,  and  untiring. 

It  was  this  way  in  Sussex  District.  David 
Gad's  friends  made  a  cordon  around  the 
polls.  The  candidate  for  sheriff  was  not 
present  at  his  polling-place,  except  for  a 
short  time  to  cast  his  vote,  but  he  was  ably 
represented.  The  opponents,  however,  were 
just  as  strong,  and  were  all  the  more  danger- 
ous because  they  remained  in  the  quiet  cor- 
ners up  the  road  where  they  could  barter 
without  discovery. 

In  David's  store  matters  were  quiet,  as 
the  chief  interest  centred  at  the  polls.  John 
was  ostensibly  in  charge.  David  kept  watch- 
fully and  quietly  in  the  background.  He 
was  waiting  for  developments.  About  half- 
past  eight  o'clock  he  saw  a  figure  coming 


THE   ELECTION.  147 

from  the  voting-place,  and  his  heart  beat 
more  excitedly  with  anticipation.  The  man 
was  a  surly  fellow  named  Higgs,  an  un- 
conscionable bribe-taker. 

Higgs  entered  the  store,  which  was  the 
only  one  near  the  polls,  and  bought  some 
tobacco.  In  payment  he  proffered  a  new 
two-dollar  note. 

"  No  you  don't,"  said  John. 

"  Don't  what  ?  " 

"  We  ain't  taking  no  bad  money  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  the  fellow, 
with  a  mixture  of  indignation  and  alarm. 

"  This  is  what  I  mean,"  said  John,  and 
taking  down  the  board,  he  read  the  article 
about  counterfeits. 

Higgs  was  dumfounded.  Then  he  recov- 
ered his  powers  of  speech,  and  deluged  the 
place  with  his  surcharged  feelings.  In  the 
midst  of  it  David  appeared. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Higgs.  It 's  a  pleas- 
ant day  for  the  election.  Have  you  voted  ?  " 

Without  replying,  Higgs  called  himself 
various  unprintable  names,  and  told  David 
how  he  had  been  imposed  upon  by  some 
unnamed  scoundrel. 

"  This  is  very  serious,"  said  David.  "  Of 
course  you  thought  the  money  was  good,  and 
I  don't  believe  you  would  want  to  run  the 


148  THE   ELECTION. 

danger  of  getting  arrested  by  trying  to  pass 
a  counterfeit.  But  if  I  were  you  I  'd  make 
the  fellow  who  gave  it  to  you  pay  for  it  with 
interest." 

Higgs,  with  unmistakable  emphasis,  de- 
clared he  would,  and  left  the  store  in  hot 
haste.  He  had  just  disappeared  around 
the  bend  of  the  road  when  Major  Powder- 
dry  drove  up  and  dismounted.  He  rushed 
to  the  store,  and  led  David  into  the  back 
shed. 

"  It 's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Our  men  have 
got  the  articles  at  every  polling-place,  and 
they  're  going  to  raise  the  devil  just  as  soon 
as  a  two-dollar  note  appears.  How  are 
things  here  ?  " 

"  Higgs  has  just  been  in  with  a  two-dollar 
note,  which  we  refused  to  accept." 

" Good ! " 

"  And  he  's  gone  back  to  the  polls  to  see 
about  it.  He 's  hotter  than  a  tin  roof  in 
August." 

"  That 's  simply  magnificent.  I  'm  going 
down  there  to  help  him.  You  stay  here." 

The  major  was  lost  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 
He  urged  his  horse  on  until  he  came  near 
the  voting-place,  and  then  slowed  up  and 
approached  with  an  easy  dignity  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  he  had  only  a  pass- 


THE   ELECTION.  149 

ing  interest  in  the  momentous  events  of  the 
day. 

But  he  did  not  remain  passive.  All 
around  him  the  people  were  talking  ex- 
citedly. Higgs's  voice  was  loud  in  anger. 
His  charges  were  taken  up  by  the  other 
rascals  who,  like  himself,  had  sold  their 
suffrages  for  two  dollars  each.  The  man- 
agers of  the  opposition  tried  entreaty  and 
pacification,  and  it  looked  as  if  they  were 
making  some  headway  until  Major  Powder- 
dry  jumped  into  the  breach.  His  face 
flushed,  his  fists  beat  the  air,  his  voice  rang 
out  in  fury.  The  people  crowded  around 
him. 

"  It  is  the  most  atrocious  outrage  I  ever 
heard  of,"  he  exclaimed.  "  These  men  try 
to  pollute  the  fame  and  corrupt  the  citizen- 
ship of  this  district ;  they  insult  every  honest 
voter  here ;  and  not  only  that,  but  they  im- 
pose on  their  victims  by  giving  them  worth- 
less money.  Gentlemen,  I  repeat  that  it  is 
the  most  damnable  affront  that  was  ever 
offered  to  the  decent  sentiment  of  the  sov- 
ereign people.  Where  is  the  man  who  will 
swear  out  warrants  against  these  persons  ?  " 

In  the  face  of  the  indignation  the  oppo- 
nents beat  a  retreat  to  an  obscure  corner  of 
the  road  where  they  could  consult.  Major 


150  THE   ELECTION. 

Powderdry  took  charge  of  the  work.  Every 
arrival  was  deluged  with  stories  of  the  worth- 
less money,  was  told  how  the  opponents  of 
David  Gad  were  trying  to  defeat  him  by 
debauching  and  bribing  voters,  and  was  led 
to  the  polls  through  a  line  of  David  Gad's 
friends.  The  other  side  did  not  recover 
from  the  set-back ;  it  could  not  cope  with 
the  tireless  energy  and  exhaustless  adjectives 
of  Major  Powderdry. 

And  so  the  work  went  bravely  on  until  — 
until  — 

Major  Powderdry,  dust-covered  and  husky, 
rushed  into  the  house  of  David  Gad.  It  was 
past  sunset,  and  the  voting  was  over.  David 
jumped  forward  to  hear  the  result. 

"  Not  yet  —  not  yet,"  exclaimed  the  major, 
with  a  majestic  wave  of  his  oratorical  arm. 
"  Bring  out  your  demijohn  —  your  large 
demijohn.  I  have  four  acres  of  dust  and 
five  summer  fogs  in  my  throat,  and  J  'm 
doomed  to  certain  death  unless  I  get  a 
drink  within  the  next  five  minutes." 

David  supplied  the  demand  with  welcome 
alacrity. 

"  Consider  yourself  decorated  with  a  life- 
saving  medal,"  said  the  major. 

"  Now  tell  me  how  it  all  went" 


THE   ELECTION.  15! 

"  You  know  when  I  left  here  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  I  arrived  there  I  began 
to  raise  thunder,  and,  by  Jove,  we  kept  it 
raised  until  the  polls  closed !  We  simply 
knocked  the  other  side  out  on  the  first  round. 
The  fates  favored  us  when  Higgs  came  up  to 
the  store.  When  he  got  back,  he  bellowed 
like  a  bull,  and  the  more  he  bellowed  the 
more  we  egged  him  on,  and  pretty  soon  we 
had  things  our  own  way.  I  discovered  that 
about  five  or  ten  years  ago  Cartridge,  who 
was  handling  the  money  for  the  other  side, 
had  got  mixed  up  in  some  of  that  green- 
goods  business  in  one  of  the  cities  ;  he  was 
innocent  undoubtedly,  but  that  did  n't  make 
any  difference.  I  went  up  to  him  and  whis- 
pered :  '  Look  here,  Mr.  Cartridge,  you  can't 
come  any  of  your  green-goods  game  on  these 
people.  We  want  a  fair  election,  and  we  're 
going  to  have  it.  If  you  pay  out  any  more 
of  those  two-dollar  notes  we  '11  put  you  in 
the  penitentiary,  and  keep  you  there  till  your 
head  gets  bald  ! ' " 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  did  n't  give  him  time  to  say 
anything.  We  were  too  busy  keeping  up  the 
cry  of  bribery  and  counterfeit  to  discuss  side 


I£2  THE   ELECTION. 

issues.  We  laid  it  on  heavy.  The  people 
backed  me  up  nobly.  I  talked  more  than  I 
ever  did  in  all  my  life.  As  the  voters  came 
up,  we  never  let  them  go  until  we  gave  them 
the  whole  story  with  a  lot  of  ornament.  We 
told  them  of  the  plot  to  defeat  you,  and  let 
them  know  plainly  that  the  decent  people 
were  not  going  to  allow  any  such  an  outrage. 
And  the  negroes !  Oh,  David,  you  ought  to 
have  seen  how  we  managed  them !  I  got 
hold  of  Big  Jim,  for  I  knew  he  had  more  in- 
fluence with  his  race  than  any  one  else,  and 
promised  him  that  you  would  pay  him  five 
dollars  to-morrow  if  he  would  scare  the  ne- 
groes with  the  counterfeit  story,  and  keep 
them  away  from  those  new  two-dollar 
notes.  It  worked  beautifully.  The  other 
fellows  are  swearing  like  pirates.  They  're 
beaten.  I  know  that  we  have  carried  this 
district." 

"  But  how  about  the  county  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  heard  a  word.  Let 's  wait 
awhile,  and  see  if  we  can  get  any  news." 

They  waited.  In  an  hour  the  result  of 
that  precinct  came  in.  The  counting  of  the 
vote  had  been  completed.  It  gave  David  a 
majority  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-seven,  — 
fully  one  hundred  more  than  he  expected. 
An  hour  later  a  rider  brought  news  from 


THE   ELECTION.  153 

the  adjoining  voting-place.  The  counterfeit 
dodge  had  worked  successfully.  David  had 
a  majority  there  of  forty-five,  when  he  did 
not  expect  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty. 
Matters  looked  bright.  About  ten  o'clock 
a  messenger  from  the  opposite  direction  ar- 
rived. He  came  from  the  district  adjoining 
the  county  town.  The  counterfeit  dodge  had 
been  a  failure.  As  soon  as  it  was  sprung, 
the  workers  had  rushed  on  horseback  into 
town,  and  had  their  new  money  changed  for 
old.  They  got  back  without  much  loss  of 
time,  and  swept  the  district  against  David 
by  a  majority  of  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
four. 

"  I  'm  nearly  dead,"  exclaimed  the  major, 
"  but  I  can't  stand  this.  I  'm  going  to 
town." 

Others  joined  him,  and  off  they  started  at 
full  gallop.  David  remained  at  home.  If 
he  was  elected,  all  well  and  good ;  if  not,  he 
was  n't  going  to  be  in  town  to  let  the  people 
see  his  disappointment. 

He  and  Ruth  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 
He  tried  to  feel  calm,  but  his  mind  refused 
to  be  quiet.  He  turned  and  twisted.  His 
eyes  would  not  stay  closed.  The  clock 
struck  the  hours.  Time  seemed  to  crawl 
along.  Four  o'clock  came.  Toward  five 


154  THE   ELECTION. 

the  minutes  were  travelling  when  he  heard 
the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  coming  at  break- 
neck speed  up  the  road.  A  minute  more 
there  was  a  halt  before  his  store,  and  a 
mighty  shout  of  "  Hurrah  for  Gad !  " 

Above  the  din  was  the  major's  voice, 
"  Come  out,  David." 

David  appeared  at  the  window  in  short 
order,  and  as  soon  as  his  white-robed  form 
was  seen,  the  shouts  were  trebled  in  vigor. 
The  major  tried  to  make  a  speech,  and  his 
companions  tried  to  help  him,  but  it  was  not 
a  brilliant  success.  They  were  full  of  very 
bad  liquor,  and  David  was  full  of  the  emo- 
tions of  a  man  who  has  run  his  first  cam- 
paign and  won. 

"  Come  away  from  that  window,  or  you  '11 
catch  cold,"  said  a  small,  shrill  voice ;  but 
David  did  not  hear. 

He  stood  there  listening  to  the  revelry. 
By  and  by  the  revellers  got  tired,  and  with 
more  hurrahs  started  on  their  way,  making 
the  night  hideous  as  they  went  with  baccha- 
nalian sounds,  which  might  be  interpreted 
into  something  about  not  going  home  until 
morning. 

David  felt  proud  of  the  exhibition,  but 
Ruth  lost  no  time  in  declaring  that  it  was 
scandalous. 


THE   ELECTION.  155 

A  week  later  David  and  Ruth  were  sitting 
in  their  room.  The  store  had  been  closed 
for  the  night.  In  the  fireplace  the  logs 
burned  lazily,  and  the  shaded  lamp  sent  its 
rays  upon  Ruth's  knitting  and  David's  news- 
paper. 

"  I  am  certainly  thankful  it 's  all  over," 
said  Ruth.  "  I  had  n't  any  peace  from  the 
time  the  campaign  started.  But  I  'm  truly 
glad  that  you  are  elected,  and  it  did  my 
heart  good  to  read  the  fine  things  that  the 
newspaper  said  about  you.  And  yet,  David, 
I  feel  rather  sorry  in  having  to  leave  this 
store  and  our  old  friends." 

"We  won't  leave  them  all,  dear.  I  saw 
Major  Powderdry  to-day,  and  told  him  that 
I  would  like  to  do  something  to  show  my 
appreciation  of  his  work,  but  the  best  I 
could  do  was  to  offer  him  the  position  of 
deputy,  which  I  would  be  very  glad  if  he 
would  accept." 

"  Did  he  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  he  accepted.  He  's  been  after  an 
office  for  twenty  years,  and  this  is  the  first 
real  chance  that  he  has  had,  so  he  did  not 
let  it  escape.  And  speaking  of  the  major 
reminds  me  that  we  took  in  three  of  those 
new  two-dollar  notes  to-day.  I  gave  one  to 
John.  Here  is  one  that  I  want  you  to  frame 


156  THE  ELECTION. 

with  that  newspaper  clipping,  as  a  souvenir 
of  our  first  campaign." 

"And  the  other?  " 

"  I  guess  I  '11  send  that  to  renew  my  sub- 
scription to  the  '  Sussex  Weekly.'  " 


A   NEW   DEAL. 


"W, 


HAT'S  this?  'Hand-Book  of  Eti- 
quette ! '  Well,  well ! "  and  he  opened  the 
volume.  "  Forms  of  declination  !  "  he  read 
again.  "'Mr.  and  Mrs.  De  Dash  regret 
extremely  that  they  are  unable  to  accept  the 
polite  invitation  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  De  Blank.' 
It's  too  bad!  I  wonder  if  they've  got 
measles  in  the  family,  or  perhaps  the  chil- 
dren are  down  with  the  croup.  Now  look 
here,  my  dear,  if  you  're  going  to  get  fashion- 
able, I  '11  resign,  and  go  back  to  Gad's  Cross- 
roads." 

David  Gad  was  not  the  first  man  who 
found  something  amusing  in  a  book  on 
etiquette,  and  as  long  as  a  sense  of  humor 
remains  with  the  human  race,  he  will  not  be 
the  last.  But  in  the  case  of  himself  and 
his  wife  Ruth  there  was  a  special  signifi- 
cance. They  were  on  the  threshold  of  a 
new  career.  He  had  been  elected  sheriff 
of  Quantico  County.  He  had  established 


158  A   NEW   DEAL. 

Major  Powderdry,  his  deputy,  in  the  jail 
residence,  and  for  himself  and  Ruth  had 
taken  a  house  in  a  desirable  section  of 
Salem,  the  county-seat. 

Salem  was  a  place  of  two  thousand  people, 
mostly  politicians ;  but  while  it  was  small, 
it  was  exacting  in  its  social  demands. 
Family  was  greater  than  wealth,  although 
wealth  was  occasionally  accepted  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  ancestry.  With  the  Gads  the 
situation  was  in  the  middle;  their  antece- 
dents were  humble  but  reputable,  and  their 
means  were  the  comfortable  results  of  atten- 
tion to  business  and  economy.  In  Sussex 
District  they  were  as  good  as  other  people, 
but  in  the  county  town  they  had  the  disad- 
vantage of  newness.  David's  election  had 
made  him  known,  and  he  was  geographically 
immortalized  in  the  naming  of  Gad's  Cross- 
roads, but  he  knew  that  the  best  success 
under  the  changed  circumstances  must  come 
from  a  policy  of  prudence.  He  idolized 
Ruth,  he  believed  her  better  than  the  best, 
and  he  had  the  fullest  confidence  in  her 
social  possibilities.  So  while  he  made  fun 
of  the  "  Hand  Book  of  Etiquette,"  he  was 
secretly  elated  by  its  presence  in  the  house. 

Their  town  life  began  as  an  experiment, 
and  grew  on  observation.  Everything  was 


A   NEW   DEAL.  159 

new.  It  was  the  step  from  the  informality 
of  rural  intercourse,  in  which  everybody 
knew  everybody,  to  the  clearly  defined 
circles  of  an  organized  society.  Salem  had 
an  aristocracy.  The  aristocrats  were  proud 
of  their  transatlantic  ancestries,  proud  of 
the  official  honors  that  had  come  to  their 
names  in  the  republic.  In  their  life  they 
mingled  the  consciousness  of  their  origin 
with  a  superiority  of  the  present  that  de- 
manded a  dignified  standard  of  conduct  and 
a  general  recognition  of  their  family  impor- 
tance. 

In  Salem,  politics  followed  the  lines  of 
society  as  closely  as  possible.  Many  of  the 
aristocrats  depended  upon  office  for  their 
incomes.  The  intelligence  of  the  county 
concentrated  in  the  town  manipulated  affairs 
so  as  to  secure  the  choicest  results  for  its 
favorites.  Sometimes  there  were  signs  of 
revolt  in  the  outlying  districts,  and  occa- 
sionally rural  leaders  became  so  strong  that 
danger  was  threatened,  but  the  bosses  at 
Salem  —  "the  court-house  crowd"  —  were 
full  of  policy  and  pacification. 

Colonel  Short,  who  was  the  chief  of  the 
bosses,  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  close  in 
his  dealings,  but  zealously  alert  in  his  per- 
sonal habits.  In  many  respects  he  was  an 


l6o  A  NEW  DEAL. 

ideal  politician  of  the  practical  sort.  He 
was  well  posted.  He  studied  men,  managed 
them  by  their  vanities,  and  saved  himself  in 
emergencies  by  adroitly  allowing  candidates 
to  fight  one  another  instead  of  assailing  him. 
David  Gad's  name  was  placed  on  the  ticket  in 
this  peculiar  manner.  There  was  a  scramble 
for  the  sheriff's  office.  None  of  the  scram- 
blers suited  Colonel  Short.  David  had  com- 
mended himself  by  his  reticence,  his  good 
sense,  and  his  service  as  a  secret  handler  of 
campaign  funds.  Colonel  Short  and  he 
talked  it  over.  The  sheriffs  office  was 
promised  to  him.  The  agreement  was  a 
mutual  confidence.  Not  a  word  was  said, 
but  in  a  few  weeks  nearly  every  district  in 
the  county  had  a  candidate,  and  when  the 
convention  met  they  fought  each  other 
beyond  the  hope  of  peace.  It  was  then 
that  Colonel  Short,  in  his  capacity  of  peace- 
maker, got  Major  Powderdry  to  withdraw  as 
the  candidate  of  Sussex  District,  and  sub- 
stitute the  name  of  Gad,  who  was  there  as 
one  of  the  major's  delegates.  The  startled 
look  of  feigned  astonishment  that  David 
showed  to  the  cheering  convention  was  to 
Colonel  Short  one  of  the  most  delightful 
experiences  in  all  his  political  career,  and 
the  fact  that  David,  now  installed  as  sheriff, 


A   NEW   DEAL.  l6l 

had  Major  Powderdry  as  the  chief  deputy 
added  to  his  appreciation  of  the  episode. 

Next  to  Colonel  Short  in  power  was  Mr. 
Presford,  who  for  sixteen  consecutive  years 
had  enjoyed  the  fees  of  the  clerkship  of  the 
Circuit  Court.  He  was  the  politest  man  in 
the  county,  a  dispenser  of  cordiality  that 
occasionally  cheered  but  never  compro- 
mised. An  illustrious  ancestry,  comprising 
an  officer  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  a 
foreign  minister,  and  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, illumined  his  social  importance.  His 
wife,  with  family  connections  equalling  his 
own,  was  the  leader  of  the  county  society, 
and  her  house  was  the  centre  of  its  aristoc- 
racy. To  Mr.  Presford  there  was  a  place 
for  politics  and  a  place  for  society,  and 
he  objected  to  desecrating  his  home  for 
electioneering  purposes.  He  looked  upon 
David  Gad  as  one  of  the  incidents  of  poli- 
tics. Secretly  it  may  have  pained  him  to 
see  the  party  conferring  its  offices  on  per- 
sons of  inferior  pedigree,  but  he  was  too 
polite  and  too  politic  to  confess  to  the  feel- 
ing, and,  moreover,  the  party  had  to  do 
something  occasionally  for  the  common 
people  or  it  might  lose  their  votes. 

Around  Colonel  Short  and  Mr.  Presford 
were  a  dozen  lawyers  of  varying  ages,  some 
ii 


1 62  A   NEW   DEAL. 

of  whom  held  offices,  and  all  of  whom  were 
looking  for  larger  opportunities.  Henry  Can- 
was  the  most  prominent.  He  was  a  fine  fel- 
low, with  a  plenty  of  natural  eloquence,  a 
sturdy  manhood,  and  an  unusual  equipment 
of  that  rare  but  valuable  quality  in  politics 
—  patience.  The  aristocrats  confidently 
expected  to  hear  his  voice  in  Congress. 
A  contrast  to  Carr  was  little  Dickey  Bin- 
son,  a  small  but  active  aristocrat,  who 
dressed  better  and  put  on  more  style  with 
his  few  hundred  dollars  salary  as  a  copy- 
ing clerk  under  his  uncle,  Mr.  Presford,  than 
the  richest  man  in  the  county.  Dickey's 
chief  ambition  in  life  was  to  talk  family, 
dance  all  night,  and  draw  his  salary  in 
advance.  Carr  appreciated  David  Gad's 
qualities.  Dickey  thought  it  a  base  pre- 
sumption for  an  "old  hayseed"  to  try  to 
enter  the  town's  society. 

David  Gad  was  blissfully  unconscious  of 
the  emotions  that  his  coming  had  aroused. 
He  had  always  made  it  a  rule  to  attend  to 
his  own  business,  and  he  and  Ruth  thought 
mainly  of  getting  settled  in  their  home. 
Ruth's  natural  good  taste  was  quick  to  ap- 
preciate and  utilize  suggestions,  and  the 
result  was  that  within  a  month  their  house 
was  in  excellent  order. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  163 

By  that  time,  too,  the  neighbors  had  begun 
to  visit  them.  Among  the  first  were  Senator 
and  Mrs.  Boone,  who  lived  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  and  who  belonged  to  the 
best  society  of  the  town.  It  was  foreor- 
dained that  Ruth  and  Mrs.  Boone,  both  of 
whom  were  great  home-bodies,  should  at 
some  time  in  their  lives  come  together. 
At  first  they  seemed  a  little  scared  at  each 
other,  but  the  moment  they  began  to  talk 
flowers  and  preserves,  they  felt  very  com- 
fortably acquainted.  When  they  got  so  as 
to  exchange  recipes  and  patterns  and  cook- 
books, they  reached  that  domestic  affinity 
that  smoothed  all  thoughts  into  a  perfect 
harmony  of  feeling;  and  when  Mrs.  Boone 
was  sick  for  three  days,  and  Ruth  prepared 
jellies  for  her  and  spent  the  afternoon  at 
her  bedside,  the  friendship  grew  into  that 
strong  if  somewhat  occasional  reciprocity 
that  makes  one  family  refer  to  another  as 
"  the  best  of  neighbors." 

Men  have  no  such  short-cuts  to  intimacy. 
They  cannot  exchange  patterns  and  recipes 
and  make  jellies  for  one  another.  But  in 
some  way  David  and  the  senator  got  along 
wonderfully  well.  They  spent  many  even- 
ings together.  The  senator  was  a  lawyer 
of  long  experience  with  men  and  affairs,  — 


164  A   NEW   DEAL. 

a  citizen  whose  sharp  interest  in  public  mat- 
ters was  more  in  the  abstract  than  in  per- 
sonal participation,  although  he  had  been  a 
member  of  the  State  Senate,  the  title  of 
which  honor  still  clung  to  his  name. 

"  I  was  very  sorry  that  you  refused  a  sec- 
ond term,"  said  David  one  evening.  "  You 
were  the  truest  representative  that  the 
county  has  had  since  I  can  remember.  If 
your  plans  had  been  carried  out,  we  would 
have  the  old-time  majority  and  the  old-time 
enthusiasm." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Gad. 
You  appreciate  as  well  as  I  do  how  methods 
have  changed.  We  have  bossism  here  in 
its  worst  form.  Our  politics  have  become  a 
scramble  for  office,  and  our  friends  in  town 
are  manipulating  them  so  that  they  always  get 
the  rewards.  Money  has  taken  the  place  of 
merit,  and  promises  made  only  to  be  broken 
are  more  powerful  than  principles.  I  was 
placed  on  the  ticket  to  save  it,  but  when 
success  came  to  us,  and  I  tried  to  introduce 
a  few  reforms  in  our  county  government,  I 
found  all  the  influences  arrayed  against  me. 
I  wanted  to  abolish  the  fee  system  in  our 
offices,  and  substitute  salaries;  I  wanted 
strict  examination  of  accounts  and  a  better 
election  law  —  all  of  which  the  bosses  op- 


A   NEW   DEAL.  165 

posed.  They  were  stronger  than  I.  And 
so  our  high  taxes  go  on,  our  county  is  mis- 
managed, and  the  people's  money  finds  its 
way  into  private  pockets.  By  the  way,  I 
understand  that  you  had  quite  an  experience 
with  those  managers  ?  " 

"In  what  way?"  asked  David,  utterly 
upset  by  the  remark. 

"  Oh,  because  I  know  them  so  well,"  re- 
plied Senator  Boone,  with  a  smile.  "  See  if 
I  can  guess  the  modus  operandi.  Last  sum- 
mer the  outlook  was  bad.  The  opposition 
were  active,  and  were  loaded  with  first-class 
campaign  ammunition.  The  court-house 
crowd  became  frightened.  They  needed  a 
majority  in  Sussex  District  to  carry  them 
through.  They  looked  around,  and  settled 
on  Mr.  David  Gad.  He  was  a  man  who 
stood  well,  who  had  done  good,  quiet  service 
in  politics,  who  had  no  antagonisms,  and  who 
possessed  a  few  thousand  dollars  laid  aside 
for  a  rainy  day.  Mr.  Gad  was  invited  to  a 
conference  with  Colonel  Short.  The  office 
was  promised  to  him  as  a  gift,  without  a  cent 
of  cost.  He  was  nominated  by  a  clever  ruse 
that  made  the  result  appear  entirely  unpre- 
meditated. It  was  after  the  nomination  that 
Mr.  Gad's  troubles  began.  He  had  to  work 
like  a  plough-horse,  and  he  had  to  go  down 


1 66  A   NEW   DEAL. 

into  his  pockets ;  for  after  his  nomination  he 
would  rather  have  spent  all  he  possessed 
than  be  defeated."  The  senator  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  resumed :  "  And  I  very 
strongly  suspect  that  the  nomination  offered 
to  Mr.  Gad  so  free  of  expense  made  quite  a 
little  hole  into  a  thousand  dollars." 

David's  face  was  a  study  during  the  sen- 
ator's diagnosis.  All  he  could  say  was, 
"  Senator,  you  will  have  to  guess  again." 

"  Not  two  thousand  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  No ;  just  about  twelve  hundred  and 
fifty." 

And  both  men  laughed. 

"  Mr.  Gad,  it  is  not  the  best  of  good  taste 
to  give  a  man  advice  without  his  asking  for 
it,  especially  if  the  giver  be  a  lawyer ;  but  I 
hope  you  will  keep  your  eyes  well  opened 
while  you  are  in  Salem." 

In  less  than  a  week  from  the  evening  of 
this  conversation,  David  received  a  note 
from  Colonel  Short  asking  him  to  come  to 
his  office.  He  was  welcomed  with  marked 
cordiality.  The  usual  greetings  drifted  into 
remarks  upon  current  topics,  until  the  colonel 
reached  a  personal  point. 

"  It  was  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of 
my  life,  Mr.  Gad,"  he  said,  "  to  be  instru- 
mental in  having  you  nominated  and  elected, 


A   NEW  DEAL.  167 

and  I  am  very  glad  to  know  that  you  are  so 
comfortably  settled  in  town.  I  should  have 
been  delighted  to  go  on  your  bond,  but  you 
had  it  all  arranged  before  I  could  offer  my 
services." 

David  thanked  him. 

"Of  course  you  know,"  he  continued, 
"  that  I  hold  no  office.  I  give  my  time  and 
money  to  the  party  management  because  I 
want  to  see  our  party  victorious  and  our 
county  in  safe  hands.  I  ask  no  rewards 
for  my  work,  but  I  have  thought,  Mr.  Gad, 
that  if  you  could  do  me  a  favor  occasionally, 
we  might  work  together  in  some  matters." 

David  bowed  his  head,  but  said  nothing. 

"  You  remember,"  went  on  the  colonel,  in 
his  blandest  tones,  "  that  when  we  agreed  on 
the  nomination  last  summer,  we  also  agreed 
to  stand  by  each  other.  My  part  of  the  con- 
tract, you  know,  has  been  faithfully  carried 
out." 

David  remembered  it.  He  also  remem- 
bered the  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
What  he  said,  however,  had  no  apparent 
relation  to  these  thoughts. 

"  In  what  way,  colonel,  can  I  serve  you?" 
he  asked. 

"  Now  we  are  coming  to  it.  It  is  in  your 
power  as  a  sheriff  to  give  to  me  as  a  lawyer 


168  A   NEW   DEAL. 

a  great  many  important  cases,  a  service 
which  will  in  no  way  compromise  you,  and 
which  will  enable  you  and  me  to  work  to- 
gether. As  long  as  I  have  no  office,  it  is 
only  fair  that  I  should  get  these  indirect 
favors  from  our  party." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  Well,  of  course  I  may  ask  you  once  in  a 
while  to  give  special  attention  to  some  legal 
matters  that  may  fall  into  your  hands.  They 
will  give  you  little  trouble,  and  will  be  in 
the  strict  line  of  your  duty." 

There  was  a  pause,  which  was  broken  by 
David's  rising  to  go. 

"  I  believe  we  understand  each  other,"  said 
the  colonel. 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  "  I  understand  it ;  " 
and  thanking  the  colonel  for  inviting  him  to 
call,  he  left  the  office. 

The  next  evening  David  went  over  to  see 
his  neighbor.  They  were  together  in  the 
library.  The  conversation  was  mainly  on 
politics  and  county  affairs. 

"  Senator,"  said  David,  "  I  have  been 
looking  into  things  down  at  the  court-house 
in  a  quiet  way,  and  I  was  wondering  to-day 
what  the  control  of  all  the  county  offices 
was  worth.  Now,  take  my  place,  —  the 
sheriff's  work  and  his  influence  ?  " 


A   NEW   DEAL.  169 

Senator  Boone's  eyes  twinkled.  "  It  is 
hard  to  say,  but  I  suppose  from  six  to  ten 
thousand  dollars  would  be  a  fair  estimate 
for  all  the  offices,  and  about  three  or  four 
thousand  for  the  sheriff's  office,  although  in 
some  years  it  is  worth  five,  provided  the 
sheriff  devotes  all  patronage  to  one  lawyer, 
and  gives  that  enviable  gentleman  prece- 
dence in  all  legal  matters.  Do  you  want  a 
partner  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  laughed  David.  "  If  I  should, 
I  '11  advertise  for  bids." 

"  The  only  difficulty  about  it,"  said  the 
Senator,  "is  that  it  is  a  big  risk  for  the  sher- 
iff's reputation,  and  is  rather  against  his 
oath  of  office ;  but  of  course  a  little  thing 
like  that  doesn't  count  in  our  modern 
politics." 

David  and  Ruth  soon  had  a  comfortable 
circle  of  acquaintances,  and  their  town  life 
was  altogether  pleasant.  The  fact  that  the 
aristocrats,  excepting  Senator  and  Mrs. 
Boone,  had  not  called  disturbed  them  little. 
Indeed,  they  never  mentioned  it  to  each 
other. 

After  Lent  the  Presfords  sent  out  invita- 
tions to  a  reception  and  dance.  The  coming 
event  was  the  talk  and  the  expectation  of 
Salem  society.  Three  days  before  it  oc- 


170  A   NEW   DEAL. 

curred,  David  started  into  the  clerk's  office 
on  a  matter  of  business.  As  he  reached  the 
door  he  stopped  suddenly  to  see  if  he  had 
his  memorandum  with  him,  and  as  he  pulled 
his  papers  from  his  pocket  he  heard  a  voice 
say,— 

"  Dick,  why  did  n't  your  uncle  ask  the 
Gads  ?  " 

"Oh,  come  now,  dear  boy,  one  has  to 
draw  the  line  somewhere,  you  know.  Just 
because  Gad  was  elected  sheriff  is  no  rea- 
son why  he  should  be  embraced  socially.  If 
you  begin  that  sort  of  thing,  what 's  society 
going  to  amount  to?" 

David  heard  no  more.  He  turned  on  his 
heel  and  walked  away.  That  night  at  sup- 
per he  acted  more  tenderly  than  usual  toward 
Ruth. 

"  What  have  you  to  do  to-morrow,  dear  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Nothing  in  particular." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it.  You  can  go 
up  to  Sussex  with  me,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  David,  and  I  '11  be  very  glad  to  go." 

"Then  suppose  we  spend  four  days  there. 
I  Ve  got  some  business  around  the  district, 
and  it  will  take  you  and  the  other  women 
that  long  to  trade  gossip." 

When  they  returned  —  after  a  very  pleas- 


A   NEW   DEAL.  171 

ant  visit  —  the  Presford  reception  was  over, 
and  David  resumed  his  work  as  if  the  great- 
est social  event  of  the  season  had  not  ruffled 
the  surface  of  the  town. 

With  Powderdry,  however,  the  case  was 
different.  He  had  not  been  invited,  and  he 
resented  the  slight.  "  My  family  is  as  good 
as  Presford's,"  he  declared  ;  "  and  he  need  n't 
think  he  is  so  much  better  than  the  Powder- 
drys  just  because  he  has  more  money  than  I 
have." 

David  drew  him  aside.  "  Powderdry,"  he 
said,  "  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself.  That 
kind  of  talk  hurts  you  ten  times  as  much  as 
it  hurts  Presford." 

But  if  Powderdry  accepted  David's  advice 
in  this  respect,  he  did  not  stop  his  tongue  in 
other  matters.  His  work  took  him  over  the 
county.  Country  people  always  want  to 
know  what  is  going  on  in  town,  and  Major 
Powderdry  was  quite  willing  to  accommo- 
date them. 

"  The  court-house  crowd  are  running 
things  with  a  pretty  high  hand,"  he  de- 
clared, "  and  are  living  like  lords  off  the 
money  of  the  tax-payers.  Old  Short  and 
Presford  have  the  best  of  it.  If  Senator 
Boone's  plan  of  salaries,  which  he  wanted 
to  get  through  the  Legislature,  was  in  force 


172  A   NEW   DEAL. 

they  would  not  have  half  the  money  that 
they  now  have,  and  you  people  would  have 
lower  taxes.  We  fellows  who  have  worked 
for  the  party  all  our  lives  hardly  get  enough 
to  live  on." 

"  How 's  David  Gad  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Oh,  he  's  all  right,  but  he  don't  seem  to 
suit  the  bosses.  He  runs  his  office  hon- 
estly, and  they  don't  like  it.  I  tell  you, 
gentlemen,  if  we  had  more  of  him  in  office 
the  country  would  be  better  off.  I  know 
for  a  fact  that  he  has  saved  a  dozen  of  the 
people  by  giving  them  a  little  time  and 
keeping  off  the  mortgage-holding  lawyers." 

Reports  of  this  talk  soon  found  its  way 
back  to  Salem.  The  bosses  were  quick  to 
appreciate  its  influence.  They  had  hither- 
to negatived  criticism  by  having  their  own 
men  talk  it  down,  and  ascribe  it  to  the  cam- 
paign lies  of  the  opposition.  They  had  long 
deceived  the  farmers  and  villagers.  Pow- 
derdry's  remarks  were  doubly  dangerous. 
They  must  stop  them. 

Short  and  Presford  sent  for  David.  He 
came  at  the  appointed  time. 

"  Mr.  Gad,"  said  Colonel  Short,  "  we  have 
a  complaint  to  make." 

"  Gentlemen,  I  'm  all  attention,"  replied 
the  sheriff. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  173 

"  Your  deputy  has  been  going  around  the 
county  peddling  a  lot  of  nonsense  that  will 
hurt  the  party  if  his  mouth  is  not  closed." 

"It  will  be  pretty  hard  to  do  that,"  said 
David,  with  a  smile. 

"  But  it 's  got  to  stop,"  said  Presford. 

"  Yes,"  joined  Short,  "  and  it  must  stop 
right  away.  We  gave  you  this  office." 

'•'•You  gave  it  to  me,  gentlemen ?"  asked 
David,  with  innocent  emphasis. 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  us  you  would  never 
have  gotten  it.  And  since  you  have  been 
there  you  have  done  nothing  for  us.  You 
appointed  Powderdry  without  consulting 
us.  You  run  its  affairs  without  asking  our 
advice.  You  —  " 

There  was  a  slight  pause.  David  un- 
crossed his  legs,  and  looking  directly  at 
Colonel  Short  asked,  "What  do  you  want?" 

"  You  must  discharge  Powderdry." 

"  Yes,  and  you  must  discharge  him  at 
once,"  added  Presford. 

David  arose.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  with 
considerable  firmness  in  his  voice,  "  who  is 
sheriff  of  this  county  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there 's  no  use  getting  angry  about 
it,"  said  the  colonel,  quickly. 

"  Of  course  not,  of  course  not.  I  'm  not 
at  all  angry,  neither  are  you,  but  let  me  say 


174  A   NEW   DEAL. 

that  as  long  as  I  'm  sheriff,  Powderdry 
remains  my  deputy." 

There  is  a  kind  of  atmospheric  electricity 
pervading  the  politics  of  all  county  towns. 
The  air  in  Salem  was  heavily  charged  with 
it,  and  gradually  the  office-holders  became 
satisfied  that  the  usual  currents  were  not 
working  regularly.  Powderdry  had  felt  that 
something  was  going  on,  and  that  in  some 
mysterious  way  he  was  connected  with  it. 
So  he  asked  David. 

"  Come  around  to  my  house  after  supper," 
replied  the  sheriff. 

Powderdry  came.  The  very  fact  of  his 
punctuality  was  a  strange  exhibition  of  the 
ways  of  politics.  Six  months  before,  Pow- 
derdry, living  proudly  on  his  ancestry  and 
his  debts,  looked  upon  David  Gad  as 
nothing  more  than  a  humble  storekeeper. 
He  expected  to  be  the  county  sheriff,  but 
David  stepped  in  and  got  the  office,  and 
now  he  was  serving  as  an  underling  of  the 
man  he  once  affected  to  patronize.  He  was 
much  older  than  David;  he  had  been  in 
politics  all  his  life ;  but  he  had  talked  more 
than  he  had  schemed,  and  the  result  had 
been  continuous  defeat,  until  David  had 
taken  compassion  on  his  twenty-five  years 
of  failure,  and  appointed  him  a  deputy. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  175 

In  politics  talk  is  costly,  silence  is  valu- 
able. To  know  just  how  much  to  say,  and 
how  to  say  it,  is  beyond  the  price  of  rubies 
and  fine  jewels. 

David  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  open  the 
conversation.  This  increased  Powderdry's 
anxiety. 

"  What  I  tell  you  shall  not  be  mentioned 
to  a  soul  ?  "  said  David. 

"  I  promise  that  faithfully." 

"  Well,  Short  and  Presford  lodged  a  com- 
plaint against  you."  David  spoke  slowly. 

Powderdry  was  nervous.  "  Against  me  !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  against  you.  And  they  said  that 
you  must  be  discharged."  David  looked 
across  the  room. 

"And  you  — you  —  "  began  Powderdry, 
fearing  the  worst. 

"  Well  —  ah  —  " 

Powderdry  thought  it  was  true.  He  arose 
and  gasped :  "  You  don't  mean  to  say,  David, 
that  you  —  you  —  Why,  man,  it  would  be 
ruin  to  me !  I  've  chased  the  phantom  of 
politics  until  I  'm  bankrupt,  with  only  this 
salary  to  keep  my  family  alive.  It  would 
be  ruin,  I  tell  you." 

"They  are  the  bosses,  you  know,"  said 
David,  quite  calmly. 


176  A   NEW   DEAL. 

"  But  you  —  did  you  —  could  you  —  say 
yes  ?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly.  I  told  them  that  they 
might  go  to  the  devil." 

The  effect  was  unnatural,  but  the  major 
always  was  of  an  emotional  temperament, 
and  the  tears  seemed  to  come  in  spite  of  his 
gray  hairs.  He  really  cried,  and  David 
sat  there  with  a  smile  on  his  face  as  if  he 
enjoyed  it. 

"  Come  now,  Powderdry,"  said  he,  coax- 
ingly,  "don't  take  on  so.  It's  a  very  little 
matter.  We've  been  brought  down  here 
as  a  pair  of  country  bumpkins,  and  we  've 
got  to  take  care  of  ourselves.  The  trouble 
with  you  is  that  you  talk  too  much.  Just 
shut  down  on  yourself.  Politics  is  a  game 
of  bluff  and  silence,  and  the  less  you  say 
and  the  calmer  you  look,  the  more  you  get." 

The  major's  tears  disappeared.  "  David, 
you  are  right." 

"  You  have  been  saying  some  things  about 
affairs  here  in  town,"  continued  the  sheriff. 
"  When  you  do  that  again,  show  discretion. 
If  you  are  asked  about  the  court-house 
crowd,  don't  use  too  many  words.  They 
might  inconvenience  you.  Appear  myste- 
rious, and  so  forth,  and  so  forth,  and  you 
will  get  the  same  effect.  And  about  the 


A  NEW   DEAL.  177 

sheriff's  office,  don't  boast  too  much,  but 
just  say  that  Gad  is  attending  to  his  work, 
and  is  refusing  to  play  into  the  hands  of 
the  legal  sharps,  and  mention  a  few  instances 
where  we  have  saved  farmers.  But  while 
you  are  about  it,  put  in  a  good  word  for 
Senator  Boone,  as  the  best  friend  the  people 
ever  had  in  the  Legislature." 

The  bosses  did  not  like  Gad's  indepen- 
dence. It  injured  their  plans.  It  took  away 
certain  revenues  that  they  had  enjoyed. 
The  mortgage-holders  and  note-shavers 
found  that  they  no  longer  had  a  subservient 
tool.  Colonel  Short  was  especially  sore. 
He  did  not  have  his  usual  monopoly  of 
business.  And  yet  David  was  wise  enough 
to  give  him  a  share  of  it.  Still,  the  circum- 
stances were  serious  enough  to  cause  Short 
and  Presford  to  meet  and  talk  over  the 
situation. 

But  Sheriff  Gad  became  remarkably  cir- 
cumspect in  his  conduct.  He  earned  the 
respect  and  esteem  of  the  town  people,  and  as 
he  spent  much  of  his  time  in  driving  around 
the  districts,  the  villagers  and  farmers  soon 
got  to  know  him  better  than  any  one  else  in 
the  county.  He  was  always  polite,  always 
attentive,  and  always  willing  to  do  any 
favors  that  were  in  his  power.  More  than 
12 


178  A   NEW   DEAL. 

that,  the  country  folks,  when  they  came  to 
town,  found  a  good  home-welcome  at  his 
house,  and  Ruth  presided  over  the  hospital- 
ities with  that  grace  and  simplicity  that 
charmed  all  her  guests.  She  helped  the 
women  with  their  shopping,  and  pleased  the 
men  by  her  interest  in  their  families.  "  The 
Gads  are  nice  people,"  said  the  country 
visitors.  "  They  are  always  glad  to  see  us, 
and  they  are  not  uppish  like  the  other  folks 
in  town." 

And  so  matters  went  along  through  the 
summer.  In  the  fall  the  campaign  was 
unimportant,  but  in  it  Sheriff  Gad  was  a 
worker.  While  the  vote,  as  in  all  off  years, 
was  light  elsewhere,  the  full  party  strength 
was  polled  in  the  upper  districts,  from  which 
David  had  come. 

In  February  the  plans  for  the  great  elec- 
tion began,  —  the  election  of  the  county 
officers,  including  the  clerk,  whose  term  of 
office  was  six  years.  Candidates  sprang  up 
from  every  part  of  the  county.  By  March 
there  were  enough  to  fill  the  places  four 
times  over.  The  bosses  welcomed  all,  but 
showed  no  preferences.  In  April  Sheriff 
Gad  was  invited  to  a  conference  at  Colonel 
Short's  office.  Presford  was  there.  So  was 
Carr. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  179 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  big  fight  this 
fall,"  said  Colonel  Short,  "  the  biggest  fight 
we  have  ever  had,  and  it  looks  to  me  that 
we  must  get  as  much  new  material  on  the 
ticket  as  we  can.  What  do  you  think,  Mr. 
Gad  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  'm  a  new  hand  in  politics,  colonel," 
said  David,  deprecatingly.  "  These  other 
gentlemen  have  more  experience  than  I 
have.  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Presford  ?  " 

"  I  prefer  to  bow  to  Colonel  Short.  He 
knows  more  about  it  than  all  the  rest  of  us, 
I  fear,"  declared  Presford. 

"  In  some  way,  I  know  not  how,"  Colonel 
Short  said,  "  the  people  in  the  county  have 
got  the  idea  that  we  folks  in  town  are  trying 
to  run  the  party,  and  they  seem  to  think 
that  they  ought  to  have  a  larger  say  in  the 
management.  Now  I  propose  that  we  dis- 
tribute the  ticket  so  as  to  cover  the  county. 
To  do  that  we  should  have  to  skip  several 
districts,  and  as  Sussex  has  had  the  sheriff's 
office  for  two  years,  I  thought,  Mr.  Gad, 
that  you  might  be  willing  to  help  us 
out." 

David  stopped  twirling  his  thumbs,  and 
glanced  at  the  men  before  him. 

"  Do  I  understand,  gentlemen,  that  the 
ticket  is  to  be  entirely  new  ?  " 


l8o  A   NEW   DEAL. 

"  Well,  mostly  new,  —  as  new  as  we  can 
make  it,"  replied  Short. 

"  I  suppose,  Mr.  Presford,  that  you  will 
decline  a  renomination  ?  " 

The  question  was  slyly  put,  and  it  almost 
staggered  the  conference. 

"  Well  —  ah  —  I  will  do  what  I  can  for 
the  good  of  the  party,  Mr.  Gad;  but  of 
course  I  shall  remain  in  the  hands  of  my 
friends." 

Evidently  Presford  was  embarrassed. 

"  Of  course,"  said  David,  sotto  voce. 

"  Now  look  here,  Gad,"  put  in  Short, 
changing  his  manner,  "  give  up  this  office 
for  two  years,  and  after  that  we  '11  have 
something  a  great  deal  better  for  you." 

David  strangled  the  smile  before  it  reached 
the  surface. 

"  We  gave  this  place  —  one  of  the  best  in 
the  county  —  to  you,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  you  did  —  you  gave  it  freely  —  and 
the  gift  cost  me  twelve  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars." 

"  We  could  n't  help  that,"  said  the  colonel ; 
"  it 's  politics." 

"  Well,"  asked  David  again,  "  if  I  retire, 
what  assurance  will  I  have  that  you  will 
remember  your  promise  two  years  from 
now  ?  " 


A   NEW   DEAL.  l8l 

"  You  have  our  word." 

"  Gentlemen,  pardon  me,  but  I  don't  like 
the  security,"  said  the  sheriff  as  he  arose. 
"  I  prefer  to  follow  the  example  of  Mr. 
Presford,  and  remain  in  the  hands  of  my 
friends." 

"  That  is  base  ingratitude,"  declared  Col- 
onel Short. 

"  No,  colonel ;  it 's  politics." 

When  David  left,  the  door  closed  upon 
three  silent  men.  They  were  in  that  some- 
what uncomfortable  state  in  which  no  one 
knows  exactly  what  to  say.  The  colonel 
arose,  went  to  the  window,  and  then  turning 
suddenly,  blurted  out,  — 

«  He  's  a  d fool." 

"  That 's  what  we  get  for  putting  such  a 
dunce  in  politics,"  said  Presford,  as  he  threw 
his  cigar  in  the  coal-scuttle.  "  We  Ve  im- 
ported him  from  the  backwoods,  and  now 
he  thinks  that  he  is  the  biggest  man  in  the 
county." 

Carr,  who  had  been  a  silent  listener  to 
everything,  got  up  and  jammed  his  hat  on 
the  back  of  his  head. 

"  Carr,  what  do  you  think  ?  "  asked  Short. 

"I  think,"  said  Carr,  musingly,  "that 
you  Ve  got  a  nice  large  white  elephant 
named  Gad  on  your  hands,  and  that  if  you 


1 82  A   NEW   DEAL. 

don't  feed  him  well  he  '11  bu'st  up  your 
show." 

David  went  directly  home,  and  retired  to 
his  room.  He  sat  by  the  window  poring 
over  a  map,  making  notes,  and  jotting  down 
names.  Then,  with  his  data,  he  threw  him- 
self on  the  bed.  He  did  not  sleep,  but  with 
his  eyes  wide  open  added  occasionally  to  his 
memoranda.  One  hour  afterwards  he  arose, 
and  all  the  hard  lines  disappeared  from  his 
face.  When  he  went  downstairs  he  was 
buoyant  and  smiling. 

"  Been  asleep  ?  "  asked  Ruth. 

"  No,  dear ;  just  resting,  and  making  out 
my  route.  I  've  got  to  go  away  on  business 
for  several  days." 

"  Senator  Boone  's  going  away  too,  to- 
morrow, and  Mrs.  Boone  was  saying  she 
did  not  know  what  she  should  do." 

"  Ask  her  to  come  and  stay  with  you.  I  '11 
go  over  after  supper  and  take  the  invitation 
myself." 

He  went.  The  invitation  was  delivered 
and  accepted.  Presently  the  senator  and 
David  retired  to  the  library.  Their  confer- 
ence was  long  and  earnest.  David  asked 
the  fullest  details  of  the  boss  management. 
Every  trick,  every  resource,  was  explained 
by  the  senator. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  183 

"  Now,  senator,"  said  David,  "  one  more 
point.  Will  you  go  to  the  Senate  again  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  make  a  contest  for  a  nomina- 
tion, nor  will  I  spend  anything  for  the  elec- 
tion," he  replied.  "  If  the  people  want  me, 
they  can  nominate  and  elect  me.  I  '11  de- 
liver speeches  and  explain  my  views,  but  I 
won't  pay  a  cent  of  blackmail  to  a  lot  of 
swindlers  who  call  themselves  managers." 

"  That 's  all  I  want  to  know,"  said  Da- 
vid. "Just  stick  to  that  position  and  say 
nothing." 

David  started  out  the  next  morning  bright 
and  early.  For  nearly  a  week  he  was  travel- 
ling from  store  to  store,  from  house  to  house, 
from  district  to  district.  Everywhere  he  was 
holding  conferences,  and  his  invariable  ex- 
planation of  his  visits  was  business.  When 
he  returned,  Major  Powderdry  was  sent  out 
on  another  round  of  official  duty.  The  peo- 
ple began  to  pour  into  town  for  their  spring 
shopping,  and  the  Gad  house  became  their 
rendezvous.  It  made  no  difference  how 
many  visitors  there  were,  Ruth  always  had 
room  for  more. 

Weeks  were  passing,  and  it  was  drawing 
near  the  busy  season  of  politics.  The  bosses 
laid  aside  their  social  exclusiveness  and  be- 
gan their  electioneering  hospitality.  Even 


1 84  A   NEW   DEAL. 

the  Presfords  unbent,  and  little  Dickey  Bin- 
son  was  polite  to  everybody.  Colonel  Short 
and  Mr.  Presford  made  their  tour  of  the 
county,  but  while  they  were  well  received, 
they  seemed  to  miss  something.  They  could 
not  tell  just  what  it  was. 

David  doubled  his  activity.  He  was  at  a 
different  church  every  Sunday,  at  the  festi- 
vals and  picnics  and  camp-meetings,  saying 
little,  but  saying  it  well,  and  being  generous 
when  generosity  was  wise.  If  two  events 
conflicted  in  the  date,  David  was  at  one 
place,  Powderdry  at  the  other. 

And  so  it  went  until  the  week  before  the 
primary  election.  David  came  back  to  town 
—  "  Come  in,  stranger,"  was  the  way  Ruth 
welcomed  him  —  and  the  political  atmos- 
phere was  full  of  latent  excitement.  Boss 
Short,  doubtful  about  something  and  sus- 
picious of  the  possibility  of  a  defection  in 
the  ranks,  sent  for  Sheriff  Gad. 

"  Tell  the  colonel  that  he  can  find  me  at 
home,"  was  the  reply  to  the  messenger ;  but 
before  the  man  got  to  the  gate  he  rushed 
out  and  shouted,  "  Never  mind,  I  'm  going 
down  that  way.  It 's  better  for  me  to  go," 
he  added  to  himself. 

When  he  entered  Short's  office  he  saw 
that  the  colonel  was  ill  at  ease.  He  himself 
was  calm. 


A   NEW  DEAL.  185 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  after  the  civilities  were 
exchanged,  "  I  believe  that  you  sent  for  me." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gad,"  replied  Short,  in  his  best 
voice.  "  We  want  to  see  what  you  will  do  for 
us  if  we  let  you  have  a  renomination." 

"In  what  way?  " 

"Well,  the  usual  way,  of  course.  You 
have  n't  been  treating  us  fairly.  You  've 
been  sending  business  to  Boone  and  Can- 
that  ought  to  have  come  to  me,  and  within 
the  past  eight  weeks  you  have  made  me  lose 
money  by  not  acting  at  once  in  matters  that 
I  placed  in  your  hands." 

"  My  understanding,  colonel,  is  that  I  am 
sheriff  of  the  county,  and  not  of  any  one 
person." 

"  Of  course  you  are  -  -  of  course  you  are. 
You  don't  understand  me;  so  let  the  mat- 
ter drop.  You  want  to  be  renominated. 
Now,  you  understand  that !  Well,  you  shall 
have  it  if  you  will  help  us  with  the  rest  of 
the  ticket." 

"  I  'm  much  obliged  to  you,  colonel,  but  I 
do  not  care  for  it."  David  said  this  quietly, 
but  it  had  an  enormous  effect  on  the  colonel. 
Losing  his  customary  control,  he  jumped  up 
and  shouted,  - 

"  Then  what,  in  Heaven's  name,  do  you 
want  ?  " 


1 86  A   NEW   DEAL. 

"  That 's  my  business,"  replied  the  sheriff. 

"  It  shall  be  mine  too,"  answered  the 
colonel ;  "  and  if  you  do  not  help  us  out 
now,  you'll  have  to  suffer  for  it." 

"  Don't  bite  off  too  much,  you  might  not 
be  able  to  chew  it,"  said  David,  with  great 
deliberation. 

Short  recovered  his  equipoise,  and  with 
evident  sarcasm  replied,  "  Thank  you  very 
much  for  your  advice." 

"  Oh,  you  're  welcome ; "  and  David  bowed 
low  and  left  the  office. 

On  his  way  down  the  street  he  met  Carr, 
who  thanked  him  for  having  sent  certain 
clients  to  his  office.  David  drew  him  aside. 

"  Carr,"  he  said,  "  if  I  were  you  I  would 
keep  hands  off  for  the  next  few  days.  Take 
my  advice  and  lay  low;  and  don't  say  I 
told  you." 

Carr  was  a  good  lawyer,  which  is  to  say 
that  he  was  a  man  of  large  policy  and  elabo- 
rate prudence. 

David  hurried  home  and  resumed  the  work 
that  he  had  left.  He  went  over  it  carefully, 
and  then,  when  he  summed  up  his  results,  he 
took  the  names  and  figures  over  to  Senator 
Boone.  The  Senator  scanned  them  criti- 
cally. 

"  It  looks  all  right,"  he  said. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  187 

But  David  did  not  rest  with  appearances. 
He  was  busy  laying  out  new  schemes,  ex- 
haustless  in  checkmating  possible  combina- 
tions of  the  court-house  crowd. 

The  primaries  were  held.  That  night  the 
news  of  them  came  to  town.  David  was  ap- 
parently unconcerned.  Colonel  Short  and 
Mr.  Presford  were  in  doubt.  They  knew  the 
men  elected,  but  beyond  that  —  nothing. 

Following  closely  on  the  heels  of  the  pri- 
maries came  the  convention.  People  from 
every  section  scented  excitement,  and  they 
congregated  in  full  force  to  see  the  fun. 
David  was  up  at  six  o'clock.  Ruth  had 
laid  in  a  heavy  supply  of  food,  with  turkeys 
fat  and  tender,  and  home-made  pies  that 
pleased  the  taste  so  thoroughly  that  their 
indigestibility  was  forgiven. 

Around  the  court-house  groups  began  to 
gather.  The  roads  leading  to  town  pulsated 
with  life.  The  streets  became  animated  and 
noisy.  Colonel  Short's  office  had  its  doors 
wide  open,  with  a  welcome  in  the  front  room 
and  a  supply  of  demijohns  in  the  rear.  Mr. 
Presford  paraded  with  his  abundant  polite- 
ness, and  all  the  politicians  and  workers 
greeted  the  delegates  with  cordial  hand- 
shakes and  invitations  to  "  wash  the  dust 
out  of  their  throats." 


1 88  A   NEW  DEAL. 

The  more  Colonel  Short  canvassed  the 
situation,  the  less  he  liked  it.  The  delegates 
had  come  to  town  with  ideas  of  what  they 
wanted,  and  what  they  wanted  did  not  har- 
monize with  the  court-house  programme. 
His  demand  that  Gad  should  be  turned 
down  met  with  little  favor.  The  delegates 
did  not  go  to  his  office  to  see  him  as  they 
once  did.  He  had  to  seek  them.  In  his 
perturbation  he  ran  against  Mr.  Presford. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  Presford  asked. 

"  What  does  what  mean?  " 

"  Why,  all  these  fellows  are  conferring 
with  Gad  in  the  jury-room." 

The  time  for  the  assembling  of  the  conven- 
tion arrived.  Promptly  the  people  filed  into 
the  big  court-room  and  filled  the  benches. 
Delegates  began  to  drop  in.  Reporters  and 
secretaries  took  their  seats.  Everything  was 
ready. 

Just  as  the  presiding  officer  rapped  for 
order,  Colonel  Short,  by  a  back  stairway, 
entered  the  jury-room,  and  stood  face  to 
face  with  Sheriff  Gad.  The  other  people 
had  gone  to  hear  the  proceedings. 

Short  motioned  to  Gad,  and  without  a 
word  both  men  stepped  to  the  alcove  of  the 
window  farthest  from  the  door  leading  to 
the  convention.  Short  jumped  at  once  into 


A   NEW   DEAL.  189 

the  purpose  of  his  call,  and  there  was  anger 
in  his  voice. 

"  I  want  to  warn  you,  Mr.  Gad,  that  if 
you  attempt  any  of  your  tricks  to-day  you  '11 
suffer  for  them." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  it  ?  "  asked  David. 

"  Yes ;  and  if  you  have  any  prudence,  you 
will  take  your  renomination  and  help  us  out 
with  our  slate." 

David  put  his  thumbs  in  his  vest  and 
looked  the  colonel  straight  in  the  eye. 
"  Colonel  Short,"  he  said,  slowly  and  im- 
pressively, "you  and  your  crowd  are  beaten 
out  of  your  boots." 

The  usual  self-control  of  the  colonel  dis- 
appeared. He  flushed,  and  answered  angrily, 
"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  You  Ve  got  to  believe  it,"  said  David, 
earnestly. 

Short's  brow  darkened.  He  began  to 
speak :  "  I  say  that  you  —  " 

But  before  he  completed  the  sentence 
somebody  opened  the  door,  and  just  that 
instant  a  delegate  called  for  cheers  for 
Boone  and  Gad.  The  response  that  came, 
reinforced  as  it  was  by  a  cry  of  "  Down  with 
the  note-shavers  and  up  with  honest  men !  " 
seemed  to  shake  the  building. 

It  shook  it  enough  to  break  the  slate  that 


190  A   NEW   DEAL. 

Short  thought  he  was  holding  in  his  hand, 
and  to  silence  the  insult  that  was  trembling 
on  his  lips. 

"  If  this  is  true,  it 's  trickery,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  it 's  base  ingratitude,  and  I  '11  break  up  that 
convention  if  I  have  to  die  for  it." 

He  started  to  go,  but  David  got  in  his 
way,  and  laid  his  hands  on  him. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  he  said. 

"Take  your  hands  off,"  Short  shouted, 
hoarsely. 

"  If  you  go  into  that  room,  I  '11  expose  all 
the  crookedness  that  has  been  going  on  in 
this  court-house ;  I  will,  so  help  me  God  ! " 

Colonel  Short  staggered  back  to  the  al- 
cove. "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  mean  or  what  I 
know,  but  it  is  more  than  enough.  The 
question  is  whether  or  not  you  want  to  get 
out  of  your  wreck  in  decent  shape.  I  don't 
want  to  be  too  hard  on  you.  I  'm  willing  to 
do  what  I  can  for  your  man  Stinson  for 
sheriff,  if  you  will  let  Carr,  as  your  repre- 
sentative, nominate  me." 

Short's  curiosity  got  the  better  of  his 
anger. 

"  Nominate  you  ?     For  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  For  clerk  of  the  court,"  said  David, 
quietly. 


A   NEW   DEAL.  19! 

"  For  clerk  of  the  court !  "  Short  repeated, 
as  if  dumfounded.  "  Why,  what 's  to  be- 
come of  Presford  ?  " 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  say,"  replied  David,  with  a 
calm,  cool  smile,  "  that  Mr.  Presford  stands 
no  more  show  in  that  convention  than  a 
morning-glory  in  a  January  blizzard." 

People  spoke  of  the  convention  as  one  of 
the  most  harmonious  that  they  had  ever 
known,  and  they  always  alluded  to  Carr's 
speech  nominating  David  Gad  as  a  master- 
piece which  was  almost  if  not  quite  equal  to 
the  splendid  address  which  Senator  Boone 
delivered  in  accepting  the  nomination  for  the 
Senate  as  the  representative  of  the  people. 

When  David  came  to  dinner  on  the  day 
that  he  transferred  himself  from  the  shriev- 
alty to  the  clerk's  office,  he  found  a  feast. 

"  I  thought  you  ought  to  have  it,"  said 
Ruth,  in  reply  to  his  compliments.  "It 
shows  how  glad  I  am  that  we  are  fixed  to 
stay  in  town  for  six  years  more." 

"Well,"  said  David,  "you  did  it.  If  it 
had  n't  been  for  your  good  dinners  and 
shopping  trips  with  the  country  folks,  we 
never  could  have  won." 

"  How  did  you  get  along  to-day  ?  "  asked 
Ruth. 

"  Splendidly.     I  appointed  Powderdry  my 


192  A   NEW   DEAL. 

chief  deputy.  The  next  thing  I  did  was  to 
discharge  Dickey  Binson,  and  I  've  felt  good 
ever  since." 

"  How  was  Mr.  Presford  ?  " 

"  As  polite  as  a  preacher  to  a  rich  trustee. 
In  fact,  my  dear,  I  really  think  that  if  the 
De  Presfords  should  have  another  reception 
they  would  invite  the  De  Gads." 

It  was  the  first  time  the  matter  had  ever 
been  mentioned  by  either  of  them.  But 
Ruth  understood  it. 

"  And  the  De  Gads,"  David  went  on, 
"  would  regret  extremely  that  they  were  un- 
able to  accept  the  polite  invitation  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  De  Presford.  That 's  the  way  it 
runs,  is  n't  it,  Ruth  ?  " 

"  Yes,  David.  At  least,  that 's  what  the 
'  Hand-Book  of  Etiquette '  says." 


The  printing  <voas  done 
at  the  University  Press 

.  in   Cambridge  for  • 
STONE  &  KIMBALL  of 
Chicago  and  Cambridge 


.  March,  1894  • 


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